Elementary
by Autobot Chromia
Summary: Logic is they key to his being. An Enforcer consultant, a detective, and an all around pain. Prowl may have the processor, but is severely lacking in people skills. That's okay, though. Jazz can put up with him, most of the time. And when the game's afoot, well, it's elementary then. Rated T for safety
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1 Beginnings or How Prowl Met Jazz**

* * *

Everything was pretty mundane for Jazz. He would wake up at the same time every day, head down to the station, probably arrest some punk for speeding or snoop around a murder if the day was exciting enough, and head home. After five vorns of having the same schedule, his life felt as if he had hit a rut.

So far today he had gotten up and was heading to his office to check out what was on todays schedule. He refrained from yawning as he went down the all too familiar halls. He passed one closed door to an office, and another, and another.

Station.

Patrol.

Cuffs.

Prowl.

So far Jazz had been at each one of those offices, excluding Prowl's. That last mech had some rumors about him. The most often used one was,

'He's fraggin' crazy!'

Jazz had never even heard of him, other then reputation, and seeing him at a distance at a crime scene or such. He had never been within speaking or touching distance of him ever.

The visored Polyhexian stopped in his tracks as he heard a lock unclick, and a door was manually thrown up.

"I can't take it any more!" a violet femme screeched as she stormed out of an office door. "I can't stand it-no! I can't stand _you _anymore! I give up! I _quit_!"

As she shoved past Jazz to make her way to the chief's office, most like to quit, a second figure came from the still open door. He was tall, about the same height as Jazz if not a bit taller, but not overbearing. He had large panels sticking straight up in a 'v', a Praxian's mark. A pair of doorwings.

"Well then, be off with you!" the mech said in a voice far to calm to be too angry. "Good riddance, I say."

He stopped after catching sight of Jazz. His mouth was still slightly agape, as if about to say more to the now far gone femme. His mouth, though, snapped closed and he gave Jazz a polite nod of the helm before whirling away and quickly retreating back into his office.

Jazz only stood there a moment, dumbfounded. His hand reached up to scratch the back of his helm.

"Wha' was tha' all about?"

* * *

"Well, look who finally decided to show up!" a good natured voice called out from a group of four bots in a large plexiglass office.

"Hey, this time Ah was on time." Jazz stated with a smirk as he took his rightful seat on the edge of the desk.

"Oh, really?" a pink femme with a Bronx like accent asked.

"Yep." Jazz replied cooly. "Ah was held up, though. Ya'll missed quite a show out there in the halls jus' now."

"We missed a show?" a tall, dark blue mech smirked from his position leaning on a shelf as tall as he was with his servos folded comfortably on his chassis. "Look who's talking!"

"Whay'd I miss?" Jazz asked, looking at each face.

"Just MorningStar having the biggest fit I've ever seen." a green and white bot said from behind the desk.

"Who now?" Jazz found himself asking.

A bit off laughter burst out around him until the pink femme, designated ShowDown, held up a hand.

"I think he's serious."

"Yer darn right, Ah'm serious." Jazz stated with a dip of his helm and crossed servos.

"Man, you really are green, aren't ya?" the dark blue mech, conveniently designated Midnight, stated.

"Ah've been an enforce for five vorns, now!" Jazz excalimed. "Jus' how long Ah gotta be 'ere with you lot 'fore Ah finally get some seniority?"

"I've been an enforce for nearly 30 vorns." the green and white mech stated.

"Well, yer the chief, Station." Jazz stated in a voice that just screamed 'duh'.

A femme in one of the seats, who had been very quiet, spoke up. "Aw, lay off him. Just tell him what's going on all ready."

"You're one to talk, Prism." Midnight snorted, causing her to duck her helm shyly and resume her previous silence.

"She's right." Station stated. "We need to get down to business. With Morning gone, we're gonna need someone else to take care-I mean- assist Prowl."

"Prowl..." Jazz mused. "Ah've heard of him. Rep only."

"He's fraggin bonkers." ShowDown stated with a straight face.

"He's more valuable to the enforces then you are." Station stated, shutting her right up.

"Wha's he need an assistant for, anywho?" Jazz asked. "Nobot else does."

"He's not the type of mech that should ever be left alone." Midnight stated, any humor in him gone to stress the seriousness of his statement.

"With that said, any volunteers?" Station asked hopefully.

A very reassuring silence filled the office. Station vented. "Come now, we can't hire a new bot. Not with the budget cuts now. We can't have just any bot help him, though. It has to be one of us. Strike that. One of _you_."

All groaned except Jazz. He had been sitting thoughtfully, mulling the situation over.

"He can't really be all tha' bad." Jazz stated. "Ah'll do it."

A single gasp filled the room, a combination of everyone. Jazz looked at them, his hidden optics still getting his creeped and weirded out look across. ShowDown grabbed his servo over dramatically, begging him to reconsider with a voice that clearly stated 'do the opposite of all that I am saying. Please. I need a good laugh.'

Jazz shrugged her off. "Wha's so wrong with it? Gotta be better then what Ah'm doin' now."

"Well...the pay is better." Station said slowly.

"But is it worth it?" Midnight asked rhetorically.

Jazz scoffed. "Whatev's, 'kay? Ah'm doin' it."

"See? Now there's a mech we can all learn from." Station said, casting a look at each other bot.

"Or try and stay away from." ShowDown mumbled under her breath.

"When do Ah start?" Jazz asked.

"You can head over there now." Station stated. "Prowl will explain everything else to you."

"'Kay." Jazz shrugged as he hopped off the desk. "See ya' later, then."

"Hopefully." Midnight stated as Jazz rolled his optics and closed the door behind him.

* * *

Jazz couldn't help but freeze as he reached the doorway to Prowl's office. It seemed ordinary enough. A typical door, both manual and automatic. There was a keypad and a lock system. Jazz lifted his hand to the darkened, etched glass to knock but hesitated once again.

Dropping his servos to the side, he bounced a bit like a boxer and shook himself off. "Jus' another bot. If he was really so dangerous, would he really be kept on the force?"

Jazz raised his balled fist again, and cussed inwardly as again he stilled. One more try, and a voice stopped him.

"I can see you out there. Just enter all ready, would you?" a rather sharp voice penetrated through the door.

Jazz shuddered a bit as he typed in a open command and went to step inside.

"Wait!" the other cried out just before his pede hit the floor. Jazz froze as if he were about to step on a pressure activated land mine.

"What?" Jazz asked, still frozen.

"You'll step on my work!" the other exclaimed.

Jazz looked down, mug shots staring right back at him. To his surprise, there were mug shots scattered about the floor, along with flies, data-pads, and maps of all sorts of places. Red string, a rather primitive matter, stretched about from map to picture and even some news paper clippings. It stretched to the desk and the floors and the walls, and even some places that one had to stand on a chair to reach.

Jazz would have frozen again just by the sight of the room if he hadn't all ready ben stupefied. He was snapped from it a bit, though, at a clatter from the desk.

The Praxian with the old movie color scheme seemed to have been on his hands and knees on the other side of the desk. He was now picking himself up, and trying to clear things out of the way to make a bit of room.

"You are Jazz." he stated. "Enforcer for 5 and a half vorns now? You are the same age as I am, and about the same height. I outweigh you though, but not much. If were were in a wrestling team, we would be within the same weight group."

"Uh-" Jazz stammered for a moment. "O-kay?"

The Praxian had been nearing him the entire time. He had ducked his own string mazes and crawled on his hands and knees from time to time to gather things up. He finally stood up from his stooped position right in front of Jazz, servos full of data pads and his mouth holding a stylus. He held out a hand rather quickly, one would have first thought it would have been to strike.

Jazz somewhat nervously accepted it by laying his own in the other black and white hand. "Nice ta' meetch'ya."

Prowl nodded once before turning around and dumping his servos contents into his desk seat. After doing so, he turned around to face Jazz again. "Is something the matter?"

"N-no. Not at all." Jazz stated, hesitated, and then changed his mind. "Don't ya need the chair though?"

"Why when all that I need is on the floor?" Prowl asked.

"Ya got meh there." Jazz stated with a shrug. "So...why's all this scrap on the ground, anyways?"

"Where else can I keep it where I can see it?" Prowl questioned. "The walls can only hold so much without seeming cluttered."

"We wouldn't want things ta look cluttered now, would we?" Jazz hid a smirk as he glanced around the room.

"Are you aware of what you are to do as my assistant?" Prowl asked, sitting on the edge of his desk as he found his chair preoccupied with his stuff.

"Ah wasn't givin' anythin'." Jazz answered.

Prowl vented. Jazz wasn't sure if he was irritated with Jazz himself or the fact that he now had to explain something.

"As my assistant you are to help me around here. Fetch things for me, and the like." Prowl started.

"Ah figured tha' much." Jazz nodded.

"You are also to move in with me as my-"

"Hold up." Jazz ordered. "_Move in_?"

"As a roommate, as my last assistant did." Prowl continued, unfazed by Jazz. "You are to assist me with my work, and I do a fair majority of my work at home. An apartment."

"An' Ah suppose Ah'm expected ta pay rent?" Jazz asked in a rather intimidating tone.

"Half of what I pay, you pay." Prowl stated. "I can assure you, it is far less then whatever you are paying now."

"How do you know tha' Ah live in an apartment?" Jazz dared.

"Oh, please." Prowl sighed. "It's all too obvious. What would a single mech do with a house in Iacon? Not only would the mortgage be more outrageous then any single apartment, there are no houses smaller then something to house a family of four in the tri-state area. Also, you do not strike me as a mech with a good deal of credits-"

"Hey! Ah do quite well." Jazz stated defiantly.

"I am not trying to insult you." Prowl replied. "Only stating the facts. If you had any amount of credits greater then what you receive as a salary, you would not be working as an enforcer."

"Oh, really?" Jazz asked near to haughty.

"Really." Prowl said firmly, looking him hard in the optics.

Jazz stared back for a good ten kliks before breaking eye contact. He had him there.

"Fine. So Ah pay half yer rent. Anythin' else?" Jazz asked.

"Not that comes to mind." Prowl stated. "As you are not needed now, I suggest that it would be the best use of your time to clear out your old apartment and do what you need to do to begin moving in. I will meet you after my shift is up."

"'Kay." Jazz vented out, wondering what the frag he had gotten himself into this time.

* * *

Prowl was very true to his word. Jazz had to slam on the brakes to avoid slamming into Prowl as he exited the Iaconian Enforcers Department, no more then thirty kliks after he had clocked out.

"I assume that you have taken care off all that you need to?" Prowl asked.

"Yeah, pretty much." Jazz answered, waiting for the Praxian to transform.

Prowl did so, and soon the two were off. Jazz followed closely until they had reached an apartment complex and had taken the lift up to the 18th floor, apartment 221B.

"Here it is." Prowl said after weaving his way up many halls. "As you might put it, home sweet home."

Jazz refrained from a disappointed sigh as the door was unlocked with a key card. The appartement was just as disorganized as the office had been. The only difference was that the string strung from every corner of the apartment were many different colors. Again, there were mug shots and maps scattered about, littered with holographs of different things and news entries of old and new.

"So, where' mah room at? Ah'd like ta unload all this stuff in mah subspace." Jazz asked.

"Ah. This way." Prowl said, weaving his way skillfully through the string and data-pads.

Jazz followed, flinching as a sharp shout was sent his way. "Wha'?"

"You are stepping on my work!" Prowl exclaimed, shoving Jazz's pede aside. "Do you not see the path through it? If _I_ can do it with my _doorwings_ I think that you should be able to do it!"

"It would be easier if ya jus' cleaned up a bit." Jazz stated as he removed his foot from a rather ugly mug.

Prowl only sighed and shook his helm. He looked into one room, and then another, and then another. There were only four doors, but he seemed to have to check each one to know what was what.

"This one." Prowl said at last after reaching the last door. He seemed to flinch a bit as he withdrew his helm from the open doorway. "Please ignore the writing."

"Writin'?" Jazz parroted as he stepped in, causing the lights to switch on.

GO TO THE PIT was written in large, red letters with some kind of spray paint. On another wall was DEATH TO PROWL and finally RUST IN PAIN.

"I see that me ex-roommate has cleared out all ready." Prowl stated with a hint of nervousness.

"Ah can paint over that, right?" Jazz asked, nervous for other reasons.

"Please do." Prowl answered with a nod of his helm. "I will let you settle in now. The wash racks are right across from this room. My room is next to yours if you need anything, but I ask that you refrain from entering unless absolutely necessary. The cooler is always well stocked, and the neighbors are very quiet on weekdays."

"Weekdays only?" Jazz asked with a bit of a smirk.

"I fear that some are rather inclined to party with loud music late into the night on most weekends." Prowl sighed. "I've brought the matter up with them, even used my Enforcer bit as a threat, but the still refuse to listen to reason and rest at decent hours."

"Sounds like mah kinda bots." Jazz stated.

"Oh, goody." Prowl vented with a shake of his helm. "Another extrovert."

"Tha' such a bad thing?" Jazz asked, taking a few things out of his subspace as he spoke.

"As long if you do not let your type of personally completely control you." Prowl stated. "Before I leave, is there anything you need or need to know about?"

"Yeah." Jazz stated, putting a can of polish on the nightstand. "Wha's tha' last room? There were four doors."

Prowl seemed to beam a bit. "I see that you are very observant. Most excellent. I cannot stand stupidity, and you have not shown any symptoms so far."

"So far?"

"The fourth room is my office, per say." Prowl stated. "Only I am permitted entrance there."

"Unless absolutely necessary?" Jazz tested.

"No." Prowl said simply before turning to leave. "I'll be in the living room."

With that, Prowl made a hasty retreat. Jazz shook his helm as he finished his unpacking. A bit queer? Yes. Outright crazy? Pushing it, but not quiet.

* * *

When Jazz finally left his room, more leaving the nasty fumes from the wet paint, he found Prowl exactly where he said he would. The mech was sitting on the sofa, optics closed and chin resting on the edge of his balled other hand sat on his lap, fiddling and rubbing it's digits together from time to time.

Seeing as he looked busy, or just creepy, Jazz decided to take a very large step in this roommate stuff. He bent down, and began to pick up some of the scattered pads and papers. The blue optics flew open at the first scuffle of metal and glass, and the mech leapt to his feet.

"Do not touch that!" he exclaimed, nearly causing Jazz to drop the pad.

"Ah don' know much 'bout ya, but Ah know that Ah fer one do not like ta live in a pigsty." Jazz stated, defiantly picking up another pad. "If Ah'm gonna be your assistant and roommate, Ah at least want things clean."

"Everything has been strategically placed, though." Prowl argued, trying to snatch a pad away from Jazz but in vain.

"Strategically placed? What'did ya do? Toss the pads in the air?" Jazz smirked.

"Don't be ridiculous." Prowl grumbled. "I have set the pad up in a way that best suit their purpose , make them easily accessible, and make them easily seen and connected to others."

"Connected? Like with the string?" Jazz questioned, looking at a blue thread within reaching distance.

"Follow that string." Prowl said with a motion of his hand.

Jazz found where it started, stuck with a piece of putty to an onlined data-pad. An old case, one dealing with the murder of a senator, was seen in an old news entry. Following it lead to a mug shot of a black and purple femme called Fang. The blue string continued to another entry, one about her capture and being the murderer of said senator.

"They're all connected." Jazz mused.

"Exactly." Prowl stated. "That is an old case, though. While you were unpacking, I was working on a newer one. You've heard of the killing on the moisture farms, correct?"

"Who hasn't?" Jazz answered with a question.

"Well, if you look at the suspected murder, his testimony, and the offlined bot, it doesn't match up." Prowl explained.

"How doesn't it match up?" Jazz asked. "The bot said himself that he did it."

"The bot is clean. The offlined mech committed suicide and the other has been on trial for so long that he at last has given up and admitted to something he has not done." Prowl continued.

"But-"

"No, listen." Prowl ordered. "Why would he completely flip his plead from not guilty to not innocent? He did so without even a fight."

"The penatlty though is the death sentence!" Jazz exclaimed. "Who in their right mind would say somethin' like that when they knew what was at stake?"

"Because the trial has gone on for vorns." Prowl stated. "He is tired of being acuused, and has admitted to it only because that with death, he would at last be free of this endless trial."

Jazz followed the new string, a lemony yellow, to a final entry. "The mech's all ready been punished, though."

"I know." Prowl vented, a fake indifference covering the hurt in his voice. "I was only given the details of this case yesterday. If I had been given them when the trials first started, he could have been saved. There is no point, though, in dwelling on it, though. At least you and I know the truth."

"But shouldn't others-"

"They'd never believe me. Not without their 'proof'." Prowl stated. "I hate cases like that. They're so twisted and bias that they're no longer even worth looking into."

Jazz nodded, having had a few cases like that himself. "Now that you've explained that, why can't I clear this up some?"

"I belive I have all ready-"

"Nuh-uh." Jazz interrupted. "These are all old cases, stuff all ready figured out. What do ya need 'em for?"

"References." Prowl stated. "There are no original criminals. They are all copies of each other or of another event, only with their own twists."

"Then keep 'em in a filing cabinet or somethin'." Jazz stated. " I sure as slag ain't stayin' if this place ain't cleaned up some."

"This is _my_ apartment." Prowl stated. "I can make it as clean or as messy as I want."

"Not no more, it ain't." Jazz replied. "Ah now pay fer half the rent, makin' this apartment just as much mine as it is yours."

"I owned it first, though." Prowl flounded for a good comeback, quickly deflaiting at what he was able to come up with.

Jazz chuckled and lay a hand on the Praxian's shoulder. "Why don' you tell meh what's new an' what's old, and were start there."

"Fine." Prowl grumbled. "That appears to be the only compromise that fits this situation."

"Good." Jazz said, unpinning the yellow string. "Lets get started, then."

* * *

Author's Note- This is based off of a mix of Sherlock shows, including BBC Sherlock (PLEASE COME BACK!), CBS Elementary, and the Sherlock Holmes book (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle) and movies (the new ones with Robert Downy Jr.)

I, obviously, do not own any of the mentioned or Transformers

Mysteries start next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2 First Case

**Chapter 2 A First Case or To Catch a Spider**

It didn't take long to clean up both the apartment _and_ Prowl's office. He was rather quite organized and clean, despite looks, and he easily picked up beside Jazz. Jazz, knowing how each case must have at least a slight sentimental value, found a rather primitive book with plain pages to keep and story notes from each case. A scrapbook, of sorts.

"Last stack." Jazz stated as he set down a mixture of papers, data-pads, and files.

"Good." Prowl returned, quickly flipping through the newly made scrapbook to reach a blank page.

Jazz selected the first pad and onlined. "You were on the BasketWeaver Case?"

"Ah, yes." prowl said, taking the file from him and flipping through it slowly. "A highlight of my career. Offered quite a challenge at first, until one stopped and noticed just _what_ direction the footprints were heading. That cleared everything right up."

"Yeah, sure it did." Jazz agreed a bit sarcastically. If Prowl picked up on it, he certainly didn't show it.

Jazz picked up the next one, a data-pad. Instead of finding an organized police report, though, a collection of letters were saved to it. The kind of letters that made the non-receiver blush a bit. Old love letters.

"Uh...who's the lucky bot?" Jazz asked with a smirk.

Prowl's face blanched as he quickly lurched to grab the pad. The pad was shoved into his subspace, and a scowl plastered his face. The scowl, though, was not out of anger that Jazz saw them (although that might have been a bit of it), but the fact that they had been _found_.

"I do not wish to discuss it." Prowl stated. "And I will be taking the next file _without_ you seeing it."

"Sure." Jazz complied, picking up the yellow file and handing it to it's owner.

While he wasn't allowed to look inside of it himself, that didn't mean he couldn't watch what Prowl did with it.

The doorwinger opened the file quickly, knowing exactly what he wanted and where to get it without anything to retard his mission. Jazz was a bit surprised to see a clip, rather flat and it's magnetic adhering side cracked and worn, removed from the file. He hadn't felt a bulge in it.

The clip was attached to a back page in the new scrapbook with a piece of adhering strip. The file was handed back to Jazz, for the mech to put aside.

"How do you suggest we get rid of the old files?" Prowl asked. "I suggest incineration."

Jazz chuckled a bit. "Ah don't think Ah'd go that far. Ah can drop it off at a recyclin' plant later."

Prowl made a discommited noise, rising to place the scrapbook on the shelf. It still had a good many blank pages in it, left over for future cases.

"Ya know...Ah could use a drive. Ah think Ah'll take the scrap there now, jus' ta get it out of the way." Jazz said aloud, picking up the rather large stack of pads and papers and shoving them in a contractor bag, set aside just for this reason.

"That would be fine." Prowl returned. "Do you need company?"

The way he was asking showed that he was only asking out of necessity. Jazz smirked a bit. "Nah, Ah can handle it."

"Good. I will be in my office, then." Prowl stated.

Without another word, he left the living room and retreated into the short hall. Jazz heard the door slide open and close, and then silence.

Taking up the contractor bag, he subspaced it and left the apartment building to head to the recycling plant.

* * *

Jazz felt terrible for doing it, but something just was not right. While he was dumping the content of the bag into the conveyor belt, he snatched up the yellow file that Prowl had removed the clip from. He wouldn't read it...yet, if at all. Something was in there, though, that needed to be found out. Maybe he would bring it up at a better time, while he wasn't still the 'new roomie'.

After returning back to the apartment, file securely hidden in his subspace, he was rather surprised to find Prowl back in the living room. He wasn't seated on the sofa, though, but the floor. He sat in the lotus position, helm lowered a bit. His ventilations were deep and slow, rythemicly going in and out... in and out... in and out.

"Prowl?"

The mech was on his feet in one fluid motion, like a constricted spring going off. He didn't act like h was embarrassed, though, just in haste.

"I have been waiting for you. We must leave." he stated calmly, going towards the door himself, expecting Jazz to follow.

"Where we' headin'?" Jazz inquired, obviously wondering what the Pit just happened.

"While you were gone, I got a comm. from the station. We are needed on 26th and Main. There's been a shooting." Prowl explained, pressing the button for the lift.

"A case?" Jazz asked, eagerness and anticipation building up. He's heard about how this mech worked. He was the stuff of legends.

"Yes." Prowl answered irritable. He tapped his pede and checked his chronometer. "Screw it."he muttered before turning and heading towards a door.

"Wha'?"

"Lift's taking too long." he stated, opening the door. "Taking the stairs."

"The lift'll be here in jus' a bree-"

"A breem we don't have to waste waiting." Prowl stated sharply, taking off at a run to bounce down the stairs.

Jazz vented as he went to follow, hearing the ding of the elevator just as he started to try and catch up. Where did Prowl get his speed from. Jazz stopped for a moment and looked down. The stairs spiraled in a square patter, and Prowl was a good two and a half floors down from him, and counting.

"Hurry up, Jazz!"

"Com'in."

Note to self: Prowl does not like to wait.

Another example of said point? Once outside, Jazz transformed on the road and waited a klik for Prowl.

"What are you doing?" Prowl exclaimed, reprimanding him harshly.

"How else are we gonna get there?" Jazz asked, just as sharply.

"Are your pedes broken? We're _walking_." Prowl said firmly.

"And why would we do tha'. Yer tires flat?" Jazz returned.

"Fine. _You _drive. _I'll_ walk and get there faster."

"An jus' how you plannin' on doin' tha', now?" Jazz asked, now interested (if annoyed) and transforming back to the sidewalk.

"Do you really want to get stuck in traffic?" Prowl asked. "This is _Iacon_. The capital of Cybertron? Heavy traffic? We'll travel much faster on foot."

Realising that he didn't have time to argue, Prowl turned east and started walking. Jazz transformed to drive. He'd show him! The problem was, the traffic was too thick for him to merge into it. Venting, he transformed one more time.

"Hey, Prowl, wait up!"

* * *

"Prowl." a dark blue minibot turned from his pad, assessing the crime scene. "Took you long enough."

"You can thank Jazz for the hold-up." Prowl stated. "What's the damage, Digger?"

"Typical shoot out." Digger replied, motioning towards a grayed frame, outlined in white chalk and surrounded by yellow police tape.

Prowl nodded before hurrying over to cross the tape. Jazz followed, but remained on the perimeter of it for the time being.

Prowl began his observations. The mech, roughly 37 vorns or so, rather tall and lithe, and was once green and silver in color (if the reports and pictures of him in life were anything to go by). He lay face first on the ground, his smashed in helm tilted to the side. Energon, now congealing and drying on both his face and the ground, pooled about. A hole went completely through his chassis and opened up on the left side of his back.

Jazz shook his helm. That mech wasn't the only one. There were two more who suffered similar injuries, their frames each a different shade of deathly gray.

"Nasty." Jazz vented. "You make anythin' out, yet?"

"This was no random activity." Prowl stated. "Whoever the murderer is, he did not simply take out a photon blaster and go out on a shooting spree."

"Photons?" Digger asked, leaning on one of the stands keeping the police tape up.

"You can tell by the black charring around the outside of the wound. A simple laser blast would have gone completely through with little to no burning."

"And what if it was a bullet, metal based?" Digger dared.

"There would be more indentation and even more black charring. A photon is clean, but not as expensive as a laser." Prowl explained, his optics never leaving the frame.

"And this isn't random, how?" the blue minibot asked, still seemingly unsure by Prowl's deduction.

"Simple." Prowl stated, motioning for a lesser ranked Enforcer to hand him a pair of gloves. He snapped the white latex gloves on and crouched down besides the frame. "Gang rivalry."

The head of a Predacon beast was carved in the underside of his servo.

"The Predakings?" Digger asked. "I thought they were run off awhile ago."

"Seemingly not." Prowl snapped.

"Least, not all of 'em." Jazz added. "So, three Pred's in Downtown. Who's turf's that?"

"The BlackSparks, but they didn't do this." Prowl answered.

"And how would you know?" Digger continued to patronize.

"The BlackSparks don't use photons. They use lasers, dyed ones that leave their colors on the bots they've killed." Prowl said easily.

"Aren't their jobs black, though?" Jazz asked, not patronizing but trying to find facts.

"Yes, but they use an indigo shade for their legion's insignia." Prowl answered. "And these are burn marks on the victims, not paint smears."

"So, we have three rogue Predakings-"

"No. They were here on a mission, or else they would not have been here at all." Prowl interrupted, lifting the dead mech's servo and letting it fall a few times.

Digger grumbled and resumed speaking. "So, we have three Predakings _on a mission_, killer unknown, and it wasn't the BlackSparks."

"Precisely." Prowl replied. "Excuse me a kilk."

Without warning, Prowl lifted the grayed servo to his face, shuttered his optics, and inhaled deeply. Jazz couldn't help but mimic the disgusted face Digger was showing. Prowl smelled it a few times before moving to the open wound, and again inhaling whatever aroma the decaying frame was emitting.

"Are you finished?" Digger asked, his voice sounding as if he wanted to purge.

"Just a breem." Prowl said, hopping the police line to the next frame and repeating his smelling. "There, now I'm finished. Come along, Jazz. This must be contemplated."

"'Kay." Jazz nodded following the Praxian to the sidewalk.

Digger shook his helm and shouted to a bot to start clearing the bodies.

* * *

"Where we headin' now?" Jazz asked after they had turned and continued east instead of going west, back to the apartments.

"Dizzy's." Prowl replied. "I could use a drink."

"So early?" Jazz asked, surprised. "Didn' know ya drank."

"Not often." Prowl stated, heading into a building with swinging, shutter-like doors. "Just when I need to find something. Or, in this case, someone."

"Pr'wl?" a cracked voice croaked from behind the counter, a cube and polishing rag in his hand. "Ain't seen much of you 'round 'ere of late."

"Haven't had a reason to, Dizzy." Prowl answered, sitting down on a stool. "This is Jazz."

"W'at happened ta the other 'n'?" the bartender asked.

"He left." Prowl replied cooly, earning a good deal of racious laughter from the bartender.

His colors were a black base with paint like splatters of every neon color imaginable. It made on dizzy just to look at it for long periods of time, and must be near impossible to process when drunk.

"Oi! Ya lose more roomies then I do berthmates!" Dizzy laughed, nearly hard enough to cry. He slapped a strong hand on Jazz's shoulder. "Ya keep an opt'c on 'im now, 'kay, laddie?"

"Yes'sir." Jazz replied. "Ya know, Prowl? Ah think Ah like 'im."

"Good taste's then." Dizzy replied with a pleased snort.

"Or very poor judgement." Prowl added, earning him a scoff.

"What can I get ya two, now?" Dizzy asked, setting his polished cube on a shelf.

"Ah'll take somm'a that there." Jazz stated, motioning towards a bottle of brandy colored alcohol.

"Ah. Good choice, there. An' fer ya?"Dizzy asked, taking down a shot glass and looking at Prowl.

"I'll have whatever it was you served the Predakings." Prowl stated calmly.

Dizzy's hand slipped while pouring Jazz's drink, the bottle shattering on the floor below in a sharp, sticky mess. He put a hand over his spark.

"Don't ya go 'round saying names like tha', now!" he exclaimed. "Ya know as good as I that they been run off good vorn or so ago."

"I am quite aware of that, but it certainly didn't stop you from selling them alcoholic beverages." Prowl said calmly, leaning a bit on the counter. "When were they here?"

"Jus' last night." Dizzy admitted, optics cast low. "Just sold 'em a few, nothing more. Not even a fight broke out."

"Did you notice anything about them?" Prowl questioned, looking hard into the black splattered mech's optics.

"Nothin' all that peculiar." Dizzy stated. "'Though they did leave pretty early."

"Were there any significant event before their departure?" Prowl pressed.

"Not that I noticed. A bot came in here, scared the willies outta me. Ordered something potent, then left. They left just as she entered." Dizzy stated, face scrunched up in deep thought.

"She?" Jazz asked, now getting into the roll of things.

Dizzy started. "I've said too much."

"On the contrary, you have said too little." Prowl stated.

"Ya better spill more then tha' drink." Jazz added.

Dizzy vented and shifted, casting a worried glance towards the back. Prowl rose without a sound and walked on silent feet.

"Wait, wha-"

"Shh." Prowl shushed the black mech, motioning for Jazz to follow.

:Do you have your weapon on you?: Prowl asked through a private comm.

:Never leave home wit'out it: Jazz replied, pulling a laser plaster from his subspace.

Prowl mimicked his actions, withdrawing an acid pellet gun from his own subholder. :Good. I would advice you to never forget it:

Jazz gave a nod. He stood adjacent to Prowl on the other side of a single door. This was the kind of bar that had more then drinks and gambling in the front. There were quite a few rooms in the back, and even a loft for those with enough credits. Rooms that were used for things other then sleeping.

With a nod, Prowl quickly swung around and kicked in the door. It's lock broke and it slid up like a spring. There was a screech, two shots from each gun, smoke, and a cuss.

"Damn it!" Prowl swore, diving into the room, quickly clearing of the smoke. "She escaped."

"She? The bot Dizzy's was talkin' 'bout?" Jazz asked.

Prowl nodded. "She probably demanded a place to stay."

Dizzy nodded quickly. "Crazy femme said she'd kill me."

"Just who was it?" Prowl asked, taking four strides and plastering the smaller mech to the wall. "Who was here?"

"Calm down, now." Jazz said gently, trying to pry the thick white fingers from the black throat.

Prowl shifted, blocking Jazz. He pressed a bit harder, making Dizzy choke and gasp.

"Can't...tell. Kill...me." he managed to choke out.

"She'd kill you even if you didn't tell." Prowl pressed, leaning just until a whining creak came from the metal.

"I-I-" the black mech sputtered. His optics widened his his throat was pressed harder yet. "'Kay! 'Kay! 'll talk! 'll-" he gasped out as he was suddenly released.

He choked and sputtered on the floor a few second, regaining himself. After a few kliks too long, Prowl lifted him up by his shoulder and pressed him again into the wall, but left his throat alone.

"Speak. Now." Prowl ordered.

"A-Arachnid!" Dizzy exclaimed.

Prowl released him and the black and neon mech scrambled to get to his pedes and get to the door. He pointed out, optics sharp with hate and anger.

"Get out! Outta my bar! And don' think of comin' back again!" he shouted.

"We came for what we were here for." Prowl stated, following the extended digit to leave. "You coming, Jazz?"

"Right 'hind ya." Jazz nodded, following. He waited until they were at least a block away from the bar before speaking again. "What the frag was tha' 'bout?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Prowl asked, completely confused.

"Ya could have killed 'im! Ah'm all fer a little 'good cop, bad cop', but tha' was jus'-"

"Oh, _that_." Prowl vented with a roll of his optics. "If I had not _persuaded_ him to speak, we still would be without a lead."

"Persuaded?" Jazz snarked.

"I only crushed the outside of his neck. A good magnet and a weak painkiller will take care of it. Really, I wouldn't hurt him _that_ badly." Prowl remarked.

"Could'a fooled meh." Jazz mumbled.

"He's sent me out more times then I can count." Prowl smirked a bit.

"I don' even wanna know." Jazz lifted a hand. "Now, care ta explain a bit about what we learned?"

"We learned who committed the shooting." Prowl stated.

"How, now, did we do tha'?"

"Simple. Arachnid, and her counterpart Blackarachnia, use photons. A photon that, similar to my acid pellets, contains an acidic base that melts or burns, burns in the case, the victim. The charring is a bit more flakey instead of burnt." Prowl rambled.

"An' how ya know she, was at Dizzy's?" Jazz asked.

"That I didn't know. That was a stroke of luck." Prowl started.

_Not for Dizzy_. Jazz couldn't help but think, remembering the burn marks in the back room and holes from the lasers and pellets from their weapons.

"Again, why Dizzy's?" Jazz asked.

"The scent, Jazz. The three victims _reeked_ of alcohol and smoking devices."

"Found at a bar." Jazz stated.

"Exactly." Prowl nodded. "Dizzy's has been known for having all types of lowlife, but also for harboring the Predakings. The Predakings had a bit of a scuffle with Arachnid awhile ago, but she singlehandedly ran them off their own territory. The three we saw were trying to scout out a way to regain their territory back."

"Ah see." Jazz vented, nodding as he let that roll through his processor. "But now we've lost Arachnid."

Prowl shook his helm. "No we haven't. Every gang, no matter how small, has a hideout. If you an a big group off it's land, where would you set up?"

Jazz thought a second. "Ah wouldn't. Ah'd use the base they all ready had."

"Exactly." Prowl stated. He stopped in mid-step. "Jazz, call for back up and meet me at 31st again."

"And Main?"

"No."

"All right." Jazz said, turning a bit to press his comm. Once finished, he turned to tell Prowl they were good to go, only to find himself alone. "Where'd 'e go?"

* * *

"Come up with your hands up. You are surrounded. There is no escape. Surrender now, and you will not be hurt." an Enforcer spoke into an amplified comm.

Jazz tapped his pede, a bit worried. He had been comming Prowl ever since he had disappeared, and had not received an answer back. His attention was turned from his missing roommate momentarily when the garage-like door was slid up.

"Don't shoot." the mech called out, hand up as the door finished sliding up.

"Prowl?" the Enforcer asked, forgetting to cover the comm. He grunted and did so. "What is the meaning of this? Some kind of prank?"

"None at all." Prowl stated, stepping out and lowering his servos. "You will find Arachnid and Blackarchnia tied up in the back. Use extreme caution."

The head Enforcer turned to a few others and gave a single nod. Six of them grabbed their weapons and ran in while multiple others pointed their own weapons at every entrance.

"Prowl, I've been worried. Commed ya." Jazz said as the Praxian slid towards him and slumped a bit against the brick wall.

"Yes, I know." he replied tiredly. "Next time, if I don't answer, please refrain from calling again. Multiple times."

How'll Ah know if ya aren't hurt or somethin'?" Jazz asked.

"You'll know." Prowl stated simply, shifting a bit with a grunt on the hard wall. His doorwing twitched a bit, smearing a bit of blue on the wall.

"Hey, ya are hurt." Jazz said, gently touching Prowl's wing.

The Praxian grunted a bit, tensing at the touch. "Release my wing."

"Not 'till ya get it fixed." Jazz stated.

"It's a mere scratch. Painful? Yes. Life threating? No. It simply needs some time and a painkiller" Prowl said, flapping the wing and jarring it from Jazz's hand.

"How'd ya get it?" Jazz asked, observing the injury. It was long and leaked freely, but really wasn't that deep.

"I had nearly forgotten about Arachnid's extra appendages." Prowl answered.

"Ya confronted 'er?" Jazz asked, wide optics.

"By the time the Enforcers would have arrived, they would have been long gone. I caught them in the act of leaving." Prowl stated. "Blackarachnia is not as well coordinated, nor as swift as Arachnid. She was easy to drop on and-"

"Drop on?"

"The building is very shoddy. I hid in the rafters." Prowl answered nonchalantly. "I dropped on her and slid stasis cuffs on. When she shouted, Arachnid came in. We had a bit of a scuffle."

"Ah can see tha'." Jazz nodded, observing Prowl's scratched paint, entire flakes and chips missing in places.

There was muffled shouting as two bound and gagged figures were lead out. Arachnid had each of her extra legs tied above her helm, visibly struggling but unable to break the binds. Arachnid and then Blackarachnia were shoved into a police trailer and hauled off.

"Well, that's done now." Prowl vented. His vent, though, wasn't in relief.

"Wha's wrong?" Jazz asked.

"Now I wish we haven't been thrown out of Dizzy's." Prowl sighed. "It'll be a good week before we're allowed in again, and I could use a stiff drink."

Jazz chuckled a bit, slapping Prowl on the shoulder and giving him a shake. "Ah'm sure we can figure somethin' out."

* * *

Author's Notes- While this was very short, it was supposed to. This chapter is to just get you used to Prowl's methods and a bit into his past (the big mystery behind the mysteries!)

I promise that the next mystery (half-way done and completely thought out) will be a lot better!


	3. Chapter 3 A Medic's Tale

**Chapter 3 A Medic's Tale, or How a Virus Solved the Case**

Jazz stretched out, all nice and comfy in his berth. He had had a virus a week ago. A terrible, nasty virus that had him hunched over a bin and feeling like slag for a few orns. That was last week, though. He felt perfectly fine now. No longer slow or sluggish, just lazy. It was early, almost eight by his watch.

Might as well get up. While he technically didn't have 'shifts' anymore, being an assistant and all, but that didn't mean that a case couldn't come in at any given time. As Prowl liked to say, 'Crime never slept.'

What to do. What to do. Well, for starters, a nice shower. That would wake him up. A shower then breakfast, then maybe check the news if there was time. Prowl would probably have a few errands for him to run, and then he could chill. The neighbors, just as Prowl had said, were loud on weekends. And, it just so happened that tonight would be the beginning of the weekend. What luck.

Well, maybe not so lucky. No sooner had Jazz left his room and headed towards the wash racks did he hear a harsh, wet cough. He froze, not wanting to accept it. Maybe it was his audios playing tricks on him. He had been pretty sick awhile ago, maybe there was a loop of that sound stuck in his processor.

There it was again, followed by a panting groan. Damn. So much for those plans.

Jazz rapped softly on the wash rack door, a small, pitiful croak of 'It's open' coming from the inside.

"Prowl?"

No answer, except for a sick moan. The white and black frame, now a dusty charcoal and pale white, sat hunched over the latrine. He sat on his knees, his doorwings hung so low that they nearly touched the floor, and his chevron rested near the top of the latrine while has face hovered over the open bowl.

His lips moved slowly, a strange muttering coming from him.

"Wha' was tha'?" Jazz asked, coming neared.

"This is all your fault." he repeated, just as mumbled as before.

Jazz chuckled a bit, but his argumentative side rose to the surface. "And how's tha'?"

"Simple. _You_ like to party on weekends." Prowl stated, shifting uncomfortably but remaining over the latrine.

"And you connected those two _how_?" Jazz asked, tapping his pede once or twice.

"Do you know _who_ attends those parties?" Prowl asked, a harsh vented following his words as he desperately tried to keep whatever was left in him down.

"Lots'a bots join 'em. Half the time I don' even remember jus' wha'-"

"_College students_." Prowl replied, suppressing a gag.

"College bots? Well, there are a bunch of 'em, but they're nice bots. They jus' like ta have a good time is all." Jazz argued.

"College students are some of the filthiest-"he covered his mouth and vented hard once or twice. "The filthiest bots there are. They are always carrying something and just too drunk to know it."

"Fine, Ah carried something back and you just happened to catch it. Happy?" Jazz asked.

"No." Prowl said, risking it and pushing himself to a sitting position against the well. "I got this from _you_."

"But Ah wasn't-"

"Not this again." Prowl vented, hand over his optics. "We had this argument when you were _sick_. You were not hungover, you were ill."

"Fine, Ah was sick. Ah gave it to ya." Jazz agreed halfheartedly and sarcastically. "Happy now?"

"No."

"Wha' else is there?"

"I'm still sick."

Jazz snorted. "Yer jus' gonna have ta rough this out."

Prowl groaned at that remark. He ran a hand tiredly over his face, his optics closed against the light and motion of everything around him.

"Jus' how long have ya been in 'ere?" Jazz asked.

Prowl shrugged. "I haven't really payed attention to the time... long before the sun came up is the most...acurate answer I can come up with."

Jazz only nodded. He stood in thought for a minute, not that that Prowl was complaining about keeping his mouth shut. Without a word himself, Jazz grabbed a plastic lined waste bin from the corner and tugged Prowl up to his pedes.

"What-"

"Jus' gettin' ya where ya belong." Jazz stated.

"It would be most logical-" Prowl cut himself off with a well suppressed gag.

"Ah ain't leavin' ya in the wash racks." Jazz answered anyways. "You'll feel better in the berth."

Prowl had to admit, although he didn't allow, it did feel nice to sink into his own berth. Jazz set the bin down next to the bed, it crinkling a bit once his hand left it.

"Anything ya need?" Jazz asked.

Prowl shook his helm, it creasing the pillow a bit as he did not want to lift it up. Jazz nodded. He started towards the door, but stopped as a voice croaked out to him from behind.

"See you."

"Wha'?" Jazz asked, confusion clearly written on his face.

Prowl's helm lifted from the pillow a bit, he was on his side and facing Jazz and looking just as confused as to _why_ his statement was confusing. "Aren't you leaving?"

"Not when Ah gotta take care of ya. Unlike what _somebot_ did when Ah was sick."

"Oh, pleas-" Prowl scoffed, cutting off his own comment. He rose quickly, sitting straight up in bed and looking as if a severe bout of vertigo was about to make him topple over. "I took care of you."

"You left for work."

"Only because you said you were hungover!" Prowl exclaimed, his doorwing twitching at just how loud his own voice was. "I was gone for only one and a half joor, and checked in on you every fifteen breems to see how you were faring. I had you take your temperature and report it to me until it was in an overheating zone, then I came back."

Jazz shifted a bit. "Fine, whatever."

"So...you're not leaving for work?" Prowl asked, looking a bit disappointed as he sank back into the berth.

"No, tha' a problem?" Jazz asked.

"Actually...I was hoping you might."

"An' leave ya hear all alone?" Jazz asked, a bit surprised.

"I received a call at eight this morning." Prowl vented, shuttering his optics to the light and his voice becoming smaller. "There's...there's a file I need to review. If you had gone to work, I wouldn't have to feel as if I made you go out of your way to get it for me."

"Ah gotta head out anyways." Jazz stated. "Grab some things from the store. Ah can grab your file. That all?"

Prowl nodded slowly before shaking his helm a bit frantically.

"Wha'?"

"Get out." Prowl choked, his hand snapping over his mouth.

"Ah'm gone." Jazz promised, hurrying away.

The door closed just before Jazz heard the terrible sounds of one being sick. The choking, gagging, and heavy venting. Nobody liked to see or hear that, no matter what. He'd head to the store later, maybe if Prowl fell asleep. If not, half a joor at most. He wanted to keep an optic on him, just for the sake of being paranoid.

* * *

"Ah'm back." Jazz called in quietly, poking his helm into Prowl's room.

A soft grunt was his answer. Jazz entered slowly, as to not startle Prowl if he was asleep. The lights were turned dim, just enough to find the bin if needed. Prowl was curled in on himself and facing the wall, his doorwings dipping off the berth and towards the floor. The room smelled of recently purged energon and oil.

"Ya in 'charge?" Jazz asked in a quiet voice, trying not to wake the other if he was.

"No." croaked the miserable voice.

It was late mid-day now, not that one could tell as the window was closed tight and the blinds were closed. Jazz found that he didn't have the spark to leave Prowl when he was so miserable and couldn't keep anything down. What if he had passed out while he was gone? He had a pretty high temperature too, what if it had gotten too out of control? In the end, it was Prowl who had forced Jazz to finally go by telling him to stop stalling and bothering him.

"Ya get any sleep?"

"No."

"Feelin' any better?"

"I'm getting tired of repeating myself." Prowl replied, never moving from his slightly curled position, facing the wall.

Jazz put a hand on Prowl's forehelm instead of reaching for the forehelm thermometer.

"I'm still running a fever." Prowl promised.

"Gone up, too." Jazz added.

Prowl grunted a bit. "You get the file?"

"Yep. You'll get it tomorrow when yer feelin' better." Jazz stated.

Prowl nodded a bit, as if his helm was top-heavy. He turned a bit, sniffing.

"Ya okay?" Jazz asked, making sure he wasn't blocking the bin.

"You're filthy." Prowl stated, reaching out for Jazz's servo. "Why didn't you go to the store on 78th? You went all the way to 112th."

Jazz chuckled, now not weirded out that Prowl could tell where he had been just by the dirt and bit of muck on him. "Ah'll take a shower, 'kay? The shop on 112th is closed, remember? Renovatin'."

"Oh." Prowl shook his helm. "Must have slipped my mind."

Jazz just nodded. He went into his subspace and pulled out a small bottle of a thick, syrupy liquid. "Want some meds?"

Prowl shook his helm, looking a bit sheepish. "Not right now. I don't think...I could keep it in."

"Ya sure? Could help ya get some 'charge."

"Or it could put me back over the bucket." Prowl stated.

"All right, it's righ' here if ya change yer mind." Jazz said, placing the bottle on the berthside table. "Ya need anything? Something ta drink, maybe?"

Prowl moaned in reply.

"All righ', Ah'll be in the shower. Shout if ya need meh." Jazz said, leaving and trying to close the door as quietly as possible.

Going into the wash racks, he started the shower head, waited a klik, and stepped under the steamy spray.

* * *

Now, if only he could make this shower _feel_ good. It felt good, physically, but Jazz had that little tugging on his spark that he should be doing something. Unable to ignore it any longer, he reluctantly turned off the massaging liquid and quickly dried. Prowl would have a fit if he tracked the liquid all through the house.

Jazz chuckled to himself as he contemplated _not_ drying and letting himself simply air drying. Prowl really wasn't in a state to be yelling at him, or even noticing that he had gotten the cleaning fluid all through the house.

_Not 'til he got up, anyways._ Jazz said within himself. _He'd then notice dried puddles on the floor, discolor-_

"Oh, great." Jazz moaned playfully. "Now Ah'm thinkin' like him."

Jazz passed Prowl's door, and shifted and bounced in place. Should he go check on him once more, just so satisfy his own paranoia? He was probably fine, probably dead asleep.

_Or dead_.

"Damn." Jazz mumbled as paranoia took over and he rapped lightly on the door. No answer. He slid it open and peeped into the dark room. "Ya 'sleep yet?"

Still no answer. Jazz tapped the doorframe, still nothing. Prowl was still curled to his side, facing the wall. He had been in that position earlier. Heck, he had noticed Jazz was dirty without even looking! How had he done that? Jazz suddenly chuckled, realising.

"Well, son of a gun, he _smelled_ it." Jazz shook his helm. It looked like Prowl was asleep. He should probably let him...or...

He could play detective himself and try and deduct just how Prowl was feeling! Now _that_ was an idea! Sneaking close to the berth, Jazz started. He first thought how he had felt when he was ill and tried to pin those symptoms on Prowl.

Headache. That was a good place to start. Jazz had had a terrible headache when he had had this. Light irritated it. Not much light here, with everything shut up and off. Prowl had a headache.

"Not bad." he complimented himself.

Now, to continue. If he had a headache, he would be favoring his helm. Burying it in the pillow or putting it on the wall to try and cool it. Well...he was facing the wall, but he was in an odd position. Both curled and sprawled, and both doorwings were in different positions.

He'd get to that later. Another symptom, the main, was the nausea and purging. Well, there was no need to study him for that. He had been purging since the earlier hours of the day. One of the doorwings twitched and trembled before settling back into an unantural position.

While he was overheating, being cold was another symptom. Prowl was only half covered, and seemed to be vibrating in his armor. Jazz couldn't help but pull up the warming blanket a bit.

Now, what else was there? Overheating, nausea an purging, headache...Jazz hummed a bit in thought. That was all he had, besides the overall feeling like crap for a bit. Prowl enunciated that thought with a tiny, gasping, choking moan.

"Ya okay?" Jazz asked, thinking he might be waking up.

Once again those doorwings twitched, spasming for only a second before settling down. Prowl's entire frame shifted as if trying to turn, but his doorwings were weighing him down. Jazz chuckled, as the fact that Prowl was _stuck_ on his side because of his wings was kinda humorous.

"Don't wake up." Jazz pleaded as he took Prowl shoulder to try and help him get onto his back. After this, he would leave. He promised himself that much.

Except...not all promises can or should be kept. The moment he rolled Prowl over, that feeling in his spark that something wasn't right increased tenfold. His optics, which Jazz had naturally assumed closed in recharge, where only half-shuttered. His mouth was also sightly agape, and an unnatural, shimmering brown liquid covered his bottom mouth. It matched the stuff in the corner of the berth, where Prowl had been curled.

"Hey, hey." Jazz called, shaking Prowl and tapping on a sensitive doorwing. "Prowl. Ya gotta wake up."

Nothing. Nothing except that wrong feeling increasing yet more. Jazz called out again, and tapped the wing. He did so until the feeling was overwhelming, and he outright _slapped _the doorwing. Not knowing what else to do, Jazz reached for his comm.

: Emergency operative dispatcher. What is your emergency? :

* * *

He vented tiredly, not knowing just when he had felt worse or weaker. Well, he knew. Never. He tried to reach back for those few strings of recharge that kept him from opening his optics and kept him in that content, sleepy aura. The more he reached for them, though, the more he woke up.

A steady, insistent beeping pulsed inside the room he was in. He was quite certain that he wasn't in his room anymore. The fact that he had been moved, and that something had happened that he didn't know about, made that beeping speed up a bit. Yep, it was a spark monitor.

Unable to put it off any longer, he unshuttered his optics. Not quite awake enough to speak, he focused on learning his surroundings. An I.V drip was next to his berth, and the boxy frame of that spark monitor, not that he cared any. He was too tired to care.

He focused on the figure in a typical, hard backed chair. He was in the classic worried-and-waiting position as his hand clasped in fists and pressed to his forehelm. Turning his helm a bit, he noticed that he was fortunate enough to land a room with a window, even if that 'room' was simply a berth and a chair enclosed by a curtain. It was dark out, enough for one moon to be out.

He vented out, his throat feeling as if something had been jammed in and then taken out. Rough and raw. Maybe a breathing tube at one point? His quiet breath had been enough to alert the other, and Jazz slowly started up.

"Ya awake." he stated more then asked, in relied.

Prowl nodded, a bit slowly and dazedly. He went to speak, only to clear his throat and try again. He had everything he wanted to say already planned out in his processor. Why wouldn't it come out.

"Ya had a li'l' seizure." Jazz said, his voice calm, now anyways. By the sticky look about his cheeks, vainly tried to get washed off, showed that he had been crying at some point. Within the past few joors. "Ya weren't wakin' up."

Prowl only managed to nod again, finding that he could not get his processor to get his vocalizer to work. It felt so very heavy and fuzzy. "You...called...f' help?"

Jazz nodded. "Ya weren't wakin' up." he repeated.

Prowl vented out harshly, slowly processing everything. He looked at Jazz oddly as the other black and white started to chuckle a bit.

"A li'l virus, tha' had me on mah back, wiped ya out completely. Jus' one li'l' germ." Jazz shook his helm.

"Everyone gets things differently." a gruff voice stated as he yanked the curtain aside and closed it in the same rough manner. "You're lucky your friend found you in time." he addressed Prowl. "You were still seizing when the responders came."

"Really?" Jazz asked, shocked. "He wasn't thrashin' or nothin'."

"Different kind of seizure." the medic stated, carefully changing the bag of fluids that Prowl had (that was nearly empty) to a new one. "I'm Ratchet, by the way."

"Jazz. Tha's Prowl."

A brisk nod. Without a word, he had picked up a needle and shoved it into Prowl's servo. Prowl started, not in pain but simply not prepared for the jab. A thick, clear vial started to fill with dark blue energon. Ratchet quickly pulled it out and placed another clear tube in it's place. He did so once more.

"Just an energon test. We'll be keeping you here under observation for tonight." Ratchet stated.

"What are ya' testin' fer?" Jazz asked, looking at the three vials that glistened in Ratchet's hand.

"The seizure was most likely from his overheating, but we just want to make sure its nothing more serious." Ratchet semi-explained.

"An'?"

"A seizure disorder, set off by the virus. Also, this will make sure his processor wasn't affected too badly from his seizing." Ratchet answered.

"_Too_?" Prowl managed, the spark monitor picking up just a bit. His processor was his life, what gave him a job. He would be lost if something ever happened to it...to _him_.

"You're experiencing delayed response?" Ratchet asked, earning a nod a few kliks later. "Probably from dehydration and a bit from the seizure, but could be connected to a bigger problem."

The spark rate picked up just that much more.

"What do _ya_ think?" Jazz asked.

"In my opinion?" Ratchet asked. "He just needs to get rehydrated and some rest. I personally don't think that there's anything terribly out of sorts, but you can never be too careful."

The spark rate slowed down a bit, but not a lot. Ratchet checked over a few more things before speaking again.

"My assistant will be by later to check on you." Ratchet stated, taking the energon samples with him. "My advice? Get some rest."

The curtain closed behind him. Jazz turned to face Prowl. "Well, ya heard the bot. Get some sleep."

You didn't have to tell him twice. The only problem was...he wasn't the type of bot that could simply go to sleep anywhere. It took him a long time to get to recharge on a regular basis in his own berth. Make him uncomfortable, in a foreign place, out of his element, and he would be up for the entire night most likely.

Jazz had been with him for a few groons now, long enough to go on a stake out or two. They were supposed to take turns sleeping, except it had turned out that Jazz would accompany Prowl on his shifts, and then rest and leave Prowl to cover his own. Needless to say, Prowl had slept quite well the next day... on the sofa back home.

Being a Praxian, he could not sleep on his back. He turned on his side, facing Jazz. Delayed response sucked, though, making his movements either too slow, overshot, or just odd. He finally managed, though, only to find that he could not tuck his servo in because of the .I.V drip in the crock of his servo. He tried sticking it out, but who slept with their servo out at a 180 degree angle? It as acutely uncomfortable to tuck it in at an acute angle, and there was no way he could crush it beneath himself.

Giving up, he managed to sit up and rest his back against the pillows. Jazz, who had seemed to doze off in the chair a bit, lifted his helm up.

"Yer supposed ta be asleep." he scolded tiredly.

"Tried. Can't." Prowl replied simply.

Jazz vented. "Anyhtin' Ah can do?"

"Take me home?" Prowl tried hopefully.

Jazz snorted. "Nice try. Least yer talkin' better."

"The I.V is helping." Prowl agreed.

Jazz checked his internal chronometer, and flinched a bit. "Gettin' pretty late."

Prowl nodded in agreement, shifting a bit to relieve his weight from one doorwing to the other.

Just as the first medic had promised, his assistant soon entered. He was a rather small mech, pushing mini-bot. His colors were orange, red, and white, and he was a good deal more friendly then his mentor was.

"Name's Jumpstart." he said cheerfully as he checked Prowl's vitals. "You're looking better. I think your color's even coming back a bit."

"So I can go home?" Prowl asked.

Jumpstart shook his helm sadly. "Sorry. If you keep progressing, though, you might be let off a bit earlier then early noon."

Prowl nodded, venting tiredly. Jazz felt bad for him. Being tired and sick and unable to do anything for either sucked.

"Tank still bothering you?" Jumpstart asked.

"A bit." Prowl admitted, voice still sluggish.

"I can help with that." Jumpstart promised. "Be right back."

He returned a few minutes later with a needle and a small bottle. As any good medic does, he checked the bottle again before thrusting the needle in. He stopped half-way, though.

"Whoops." he chuckled, subspacing the bottle. "Wrong one."

Prowl's optics widened a bit. A medic could have given him a wrong drug...did he really want him giving him one, even if it w_as_ right.

"Oh, don't worry. It's what was used on you earlier." Jumpstart stated. "It was set aside in case you seized again. It wouldn't hurt _you_, just wouldn't help your tank any."

He returned a moment later with the correct bottle of medications, and filled the syringe. Prowl started to hold out his I.V-less servo, only to start as he was pricked in the neck. Jazz looked a bit wary himself. No warning at all, and who gave injections in the unless absolutely necessary?

"This'll help you recharge, too." Jumpstart stated. "Makes you super groggy."

Prowl only nodded, the medications all ready attacking his systems. His optics looked hazed and he fought to keep them open.

"Here, why don't you try laying on your other side?" Jumpstart offered, guiding Prowl before he simply fell forward and recharged that way. "The I.V won't get in the way, then."

The medic's assistant soon left, and Prowl went out like a light five breems later.

* * *

"No."

"Yes."

"We're not arguin' 'bout this. No."

"Really, I'm feeling much better." Prowl argued. "It's not even like I would be able to _do_ anything about it! I only want to review the case."

"Prowl, we jus' walked in through the door." Jazz stated. "Ya barely got any sleep last night, you were sick all day yesterday, you were in the _hospital_, the case can wait. 'Sides, only way'd ya get it is if ya overrode mah subspace."

"I can do that." Prowl stated. "I can also knock you out with pressure to certain nervers in your neck."

"Not if Ah started runnin'. Ya'd pass out." Jazz stated. "Jus' go lie down. Ya can look over the case later."

Prowl vented, not in the mood to argue. He was tired, and had a light ache in his processor. On top of that, his energon tests hadn't come back yet. 'We'll call you' isn't a very calming thought.

Thinking that maybe Jazz would loosen up if he listened, he started towards his room. He stopped, though, before he had even reached the tiny hallway.

"Wa's wrong?" Jazz asked.

"Damn." Prowl cursed to himself. "I still need to clean up my room."

Jazz bit his bottom lip. In his haste to get Prowl medical help, he had left the room still messed up and the blankets covered in oil.

"Go lie down on the sofa, then." Jazz stated. "Ah'll clean up."

"Excuse-"

"Ya cleaned up after meh...even though Ah didn' purge on anythin'." Jazz interrupted, pointing towards the small living room.

"I thought I was a terrible bot who left you when you were ill an-"

"You wanna clean up the mess?"

"Not particularly."

"Then mute it and go lie down. Take a nap."

"I'm not tired." Prowl muttered.

"Liar. Then jus' put somethin' on the '-vid." Jazz stated. After a klik of thought, he added. "No news!"

"Damn it."

Jazz chuckled a bit as he entered Prowl's room. It still smelled of purged energon and base oils. There was a still soiled bin that needed the lining removed and replaced next to the berth. On top of that, the blankets needed to be cleaned. Or burned.

Leaning towards incineration, Jazz quickly folded the blanket in on itself and shoved it into the waste bin. He tossed out the plastic liner, blankets and all, into a main garbage disposal that was burned somewhere in the city. He went and checked on Prowl, who lay on his back on the couch, a wrapped in a blanket. He checked the holo-vid, and, while glad it wasn't the news, laughed at what was on.

"A shoppin' channel?" he snickered.

"I was hoping that it would put me to sleep." Prowl admitted, sitting up and taking up the remote to shut off the screen. He stopped, though, and smirked.

"Wha'? You like the ring or somethin'?" Jazz asked, looking at what was on display.

"No, just the fact that they are describing something completely different to what they are selling. A 32 cut gem that only has 30 cuts." Prowl snorted. He shook his helm as he shut off the screen. "I've rested. I'll be taking the file, now."

"Like Pit, ya did." Jazz returned, patting his chest. "Ain't no way yer gettin' it from me 'till ya've taken a nap."

"Oh? No way?"

"No way."

"Even if I didn't read it?" Prowl asked.

"Then how'd ya-No."

"Please." Prowl pleaded. "How would it hurt me if you're the one reading it? I'd only be using my processor-"

"That doesn't need ta be stressed out none."

"And I would be using that anyways, wondering what was in it!" Prowl finished. "You know I can't sleep if I have something on my mind."

Jazz glowered. "If Ah read it..."

"Yes."

"Ya don' even know what Ah was gonna say." Jazz argued.

"You were going to ask if you could stop if you thought it was too much. I wouldn't have that option anyways, so yes." Prowl said, waiving him aside.

Jazz shook his helm and sat down into a cushioned seat. "Ya want somethin' ta fuel up on first?"

Prowl shook his helm, a queasy look crossing his face. "If you want something, then get it. I don't want anything."

"Yer fuel afterwards." Jazz stated, taking a manilla envelope out of his subspace and sliding out a file and three pictures. He set them down on the table. "Mug shots."

Prowl nodded, holding the blanket with one hand as he leaned off of the sofa to get a good look at them. "BlackStand, BoneCrusher, and GraveDigger. Lovely names."

"Most likely changed." Jazz stated.

"No, really?" Prowl asked sarcastically. His brow furrowed as he looked at each picture in turn, optics darting back and forth between them. "What are they in for? Drug dealing?"

Jazz onlined the data-pad file. "Yep. How'd ya tell?"

"They look like they're on something." Prowl stated. "Continue."

"There was a drug raid on the east side. Caught a bunch'o mechs an' femmes durin' the raid. All but one." Jazz read, improvising words of course. "He wasn't even around, but the ones caught say that he was supposed ta have been there."

"Anything given on him? Description, height, weight, name, colors?" Prowl rattled off.

Jazz went through the few pages, and shook his helm. "They aren't spillin' nothin' but his nickname. They call 'im 'The Doc'."

Prowl shook his helm. "Is the 'the' part of his title or did you add that? Nevermind, it doesn't matter. His nickname is simply 'Doc'."

"Okay, then. 'Doc'." Jazz rolled his optics a bit.

"Don't scoff. You cannot mix up facts, no matter how simple." Prowl stated, pinching the bridge of his optics a bit. He vented. "Doc...doctor. Doc...medic?"

"This is too much for ya right now." Jazz stated, going to pick up the pictures. Prowl slapped his one hand over them, his optics still closed.

"Leave them. I need a reference." Prowl demanded.

"Fine. Ah'll leave the pics, but we ain't doin' this now." Jazz said, subspacing the file.

Prowl vented again. "One more question... when was the raid."

"Few orns ago-"

"No! _Exact_ time!" Prowl snapped.

"Uh..." Jazz quickly checked. "The day before ya got sick. They busted 'em the night before, an' called ya the day of."

Prowl nodded, calm again. "I though as much. Now-"

"No more questions."

"I wasn't going to ask any. I was going to say that I was good for now." Prowl stated tiredly.

"Good." Jazz gave a pleased nod as he rose.

"Where are you going?"

"To make ya somethin' to eat." Jazz stated from the kitchen, the wall blocking his voice a bit.

"I'm not-"

"Don' care." Jazz called out, the cooler opening and closing and the brief clicking of a burner starting.

Prowl vented as he went to stare at the mug shots. His helm protested, playing a steady rhythm against his temples. Venting in both fatigue and frustration, he pulled the blanket closer and sat against the back of the couch. He shuttered his optics, wishing that, for once, he could get his processor to just stop working. No more thinking, no more observing. He reopened them as Jazz entered.

"Here." Jazz said as he handed a small cube of a warm, weak low grade over. He settled himself back into his seat, a bit bigger cube of mid-grade for himself.

Prowl looked at the light blue fluid, sending up a sweet scent. A bit too sweet.

"Nuh-uh." Jazz said, setting his own cube in his lap a second. "Pick it back up."

"Not hungry." Prowl argued. "Besides, I was on an I.V. all night. You don't have to worry about dehydration."

"I.V. or not, ya _are_ gonna start feelin' like slag again if ya don' keep up on yer fluids." Jazz stated.

Prowl grimaced, wrinkling his olfactory at the untouched cube on the coffee table.

"Prowl." Jazz grumbled in a half-threatening half-pleading tone.

Prowl vented as he lifted the cube to his lips and slowly took a miniscule sip that did nothing more then wet his glossa. He waited for the imminent feeling of nausea to return, and was pleasantly surprised when it didn't. He tested it by taking a small sip.

It was warm and he could feel it warming his tank. He managed a few more sips before his tank began to rebel a bit, forcing him to set the cube back down.

"More." Jazz ordered.

"Can't." Prowl managed, piteously enough to get Jazz off his case.

Jazz vented irritably. "Fine, but yer gettin' more later."

"Agreed."

"Now, yer gonna take a nap."

"I'm not a youngling, Jazz." Prowl grumbled. "I do not need you to pose as my carrier."

"Ya need somebot to get on yer aft." Jazz stated, taking up his own now empty cube and Prowl's half-filled one. "Might as well be meh."

Prowl rolled his optics as Jazz went to dispose and store the cubes. By the time he had returned, Prowl had zonked out on the sofa into a light recharge.

* * *

By the time Prowl had awoken, he was still tired but a bit refreshed. Jazz had forced another cube onto him, and he humored the Polyhexian by drinking all bit a few sips of it. Jazz had then ushered him to bed, and Prowl swore that he had heard the door lock.

Waking up again proved to be good. No headache, no queasiness, just a bit weak from the initial sickness. He exited his room after making up the bed, pleased to find that he had not been locked in his room. Jazz was all ready up and about as it was a good joor past Prowl's regular rising time.

"How ya feelin'?" Jazz asked first thing, setting down the morning news.

"Much better." Prowl replied, proving himself a bit more by getting himself a cube of energon. Be it low grade, but still energon. "Have the medics called yet?"

"The med- naw, they haven't called yet." Jazz answered. "Why?"

"No reason, just curiosity." Prowl replied cooly, stealing the morning news pad and sipping his energon carefully.

"Yer worried."

"Am not."

"Are so."

"I am not worried. Only curious, as I stated before." Prowl said, taking a loud, slurping sip to try and block Jazz out a bit more.

"It's fine if ya are." Jazz stated nonchalantly. "Heck, Ah'd be worried."

"Are you?"

"O' course." Jazz replied easily.

"Well, you shouldn't be." Prowl stated. "There is obviously nothing wrong with me, and it was a simple virus that got a bit out of hand."

"Could be."Jazz started. "Could not be. No way ta tell 'til ya get the tests back."

Prowl decided that anything he said would only be turned into an argument. He settled for ignoring the other, taking another loud slurp to try and shut the other up.

Jazz shook his helm. "Ya are so mature."

Another slurp.

"Case proven."

Prowl snorted, upset now that his cube was gone and he could no longer use it in the argument. "Maturity is overrated."

He rose from his seat, taking the news pad with him as he set his cube in the sink to be washed later and tossing the data-pad into a recycling bin.

"Ah wasn't finished with that, ya know."

"Too late. You can pick up another if you want to read it so badly." Prowl stated.

"Ah wasn't plannin' on goin' out." Jazz sighed.

"I'll get it for you, then. Expect it to be outdated by the time you get it." Prowl said, heading from the kitchenette to leave.

"Hang up, where ya headin'. Ya should still be restin'." Jazz argued.

"Would you like to accompany me?" Prowl asked in a fake sweetness.

"Where?"

"Well, first I am heading to the hospital. Then-"

"What?"

Prowl grumbled at the interruption. "_Then_ I might head to the station. If not, then I'll head to the east side to where the drug bust was."

"Why are ya goin' ta the hospital?" Jazz exclaimed.

"Are you really still hung up on that thought. Honestly, Jazz, you have a one track processor. All right! Don't get upset! I only want to question the medics. I have a hypothesis that needs testing." Prowl explained.

"Thank ya'." Jazz rolled his optics.

"Your welcome." Prowl snarked back. "Are you coming or not."

"Well, duh, Ah'm comin'."

"Then get up. The day is wasting!"

* * *

"You again? If you're not dying, bleeding out, sick, stabbed or the like, leave."

"How do you not know I'm not bleeding internally?" Prowl asked, causing both the white and red medic's and Jazz's helm turn towards him.

"Are you?" Ratchet asked.

"No."

"Then get out."

"You seem flustered. Is there an emergency?" Prowl asked calmly, as if speaking to an old friend.

"No. No more then usual, anyways. We got a bad case of disorganization, though." Ratchet grumbled.

"Something missing? Misplaced?" Prowl questioned.

"Missing, so far." Ratchet answered. "A bunch of magnesium oxide's been taken, or stored where it shouldn't be."

"Hmm." Prowl thought. "Interesting. Isn't that the medicine that was used on me?"

"Wha-, oh, yes. It's a seizure med, stops it dead in it's tracks."

"A relaxer." Prowl supplied the simple definition.

"Of sorts. Taken when not needed, though, it can cause hallucinations." Ratchet shook his helm. "Hate to see it fall into the wrong hands. Pretty misused drug."

"Tha's be bad all righ'." Jazz stated.

"Indeed." Ratchet agreed. "Now, is there something you wanted?"

"No." Prowl answered.

"But, Prowl-"

"Come along, Jazz." Prowl motioned for the other to follow. "We must leave the good doctor to his work."

Jazz shook his helm and shrugged at the confused medic. He ran a bit through the double, sliding doors to catch up to Prowl.

"Wha' was tha' about?" Jazz asked. "Ya didn' even ask if they had yer tests back!"

"Because they didn't. They'll call the moment they do, or he would have told me then." Prowl stated. "Now, we have more errands to run, and you still need that news pad, don't you?"

"Uh-"

"Never mind, I'm sure that we'll pass a stand or a youngling selling them soon enough." Prowl stated, hurrying on. Jazz kept in stride. "For future reference, Jazz, I severely dislike hospitals."

"What do ya want meh ta do about it?" Jazz asked.

"If the circumstance ever seems to need one, decide against it." Prowl said, sidestepping, transforming, and taking off before Jazz could answer.

Jazz growled, transforming himself to catch up.

* * *

Prowl had decided that he wasn't going to go to the station. Instead, he went straight to the east side and to the exact place of the drug raid.

"Why don' these kinda things ever take place in a nice part o' town?" Jazz asked, being careful not to step on a broken bottle or rust needle.

"Oh, they do, but the well-to-do that live in those areas like to keep it quiet. Crime happens everywhere, Jazz." Prowl replied. He stopped suddenly. "What the frag? No! Stop!"

"Prow-" Jazz was cut off as Prowl cursed and hurried ahead.

They had reached the building of the raid. It had been an abandoned warehouse, a tiny, little place that held the operations in the basement. Yellow police tape blocked the perimeter around the entrance, and Enforcers went about their dutys or breaks.

"Prowl? Good to see you up again!" an Enforcer stated, only to be pushed aside harshly.

"What are you doing?" Prowl exclaimed. "You have mucked everything up! Covered tracks with your own steps! Tramped down any clues, covered prints with those of your own! You have ruined the crime scene! _Primus_!"

"Whoa, chill." the Enforcer said, waiving his hands a bit. "Jazz called in saying you couldn't come in. What were we supposed to do? Wait for you to get better and _then_ come here?"

"Yes!"

"Cool it, Prowl." Jazz shook his helm.

Prowl ignored him, and hopped the tape. He hurried inside, and Jazz hurried after him.

"Don't. Touch. A Thing." Prowl ordered, hunched over and following the walls. "Frag. Everything's ruined. All because I- no- _you_ had to get sick!"

"It ain't mah fault!" Jazz exclaimed. "Ah can't help catchin' somethin' no more then you can!"

"It's all a matter of perspective." Prowl replied. "One cannot become ill if they do not allow themselves to be."

"Hmm. Sound logic." Jazz scoffed. "Worked well for ya, didn' it?"

"I admit, I was unprepared. A part of me was still telling me that you might have been hungover. If I had fully accepted that you were, in fact, sick, then I could have better prepared myself for it."

"Like slag, ya would." Jazz argued.

"Yes, I- Jazz, do you have any gloves on you."

"No."

"Then run up and grab me a pair. And a sterile bag and tweezers." Prowl ordered.

Not letting the argument get in the way of the case, Jazz hurried up. When he returned, Prowl was holding a small, empty, glass bottle with a dirty label.

"Couldn't wait for the gloves?" Jazz rolled his optics.

"Those were for the needle." Prowl replied, setting the bottle down on the floor and taking the gloves from Jazz. He also took the tweezers and then crouched down. He reached behind a chest of drawers that seemed to have been used for everything but storage. "Open the bag."

Doing so, Jazz held it out. Prowl dropped in a dirty hypodermic needle. It had a few specks of fluid on the inside, but was empty except for the air it contained.

"Good. I hope you had enough sense to bring another."

"Yep." Jazz stated. "Brought a couple."

"Good. Hand me one."

Jazz obliged once again. Prowl slid in the small bottle, which had a tin foil-like lid and a tiny pin-prick hole in it.

"One more thing."

"Another bag?"

"No. Call the medics. Make sure that it is only Ratchet and his assistant...Ju-Ju...fraggit, what was his name?" Prowl growled, completely put off that he had forgotten a name. "How could _I _forget?"

"Jumpstart."

"Thank you!" Prowl exclaimed, snatching the two bags from Jazz.

"Why do ya need the medics?"

"I don't need them, but _they _need to be here." Prowl answered, marching up. "And I suggest you do it down here so that those goons above don't get mixed up in it."

"The Enforcers?" Jazz chuckled, checking to make sure he got a signal. Pleased that he did, he turned away and pressed a hand to his comm.

Prowl went above, most likely to look at his finding in better light. The lighting down here sucked. It was dark and dank and damp and dirty. Given the choice, though, of sleeping down here or trying to convince Ratchet to come here, he would have chosen the former.

He was relieved once the medic had _finally _agreed, only to start when his name was frantically called by a voice he did not know.

"Better get up here! Fast!"

"Wha's wrong?" Jazz asked, jogging up the stairs and back to street level.

"No idea. One klik he was looking over some stuff he found and yelling at us, and the next he's about to fall over and shaking like crazy." the young Enforcer stated, panic in his optics.

"Shouldn't ya know basic first aid?" Jazz asked, having had to take the course himself in Criminal Justice schooling.

"Well, I do, but..." the Enforcer stammered. "It's not really my thing."

"Get over it." Jazz suggested before hurrying in the direction the other had pointed him in.

Two Enforcers were near Prowl. He was sitting, a good sign. It meant that he probably wasn't seizing...yet. He had been forced onto a bench, and one of them kept a hand on his shaking back to keep him from falling over,

"Ah got this." Jazz stated, sending the two Enforcers to watch for the medics "Hey, easy now. Wha's goin' on."

Prowl gasped a bit, his helm hanging as low as his doorwings. He rattled in his frame. "Gues...guess we need the medics...a-after all."

"Jus' take it easy." Jazz stated, sitting beside him and wrapping his servos around him a bit to offer better support. "Ya okay?"

Prowl shook his helm, optics closed. "Nauseous."

"Jus' don' purge on meh, 'kay?" Jazz asked.

Prowl snorted a bit in a humored way. A shiver traveled up his back, causing him to shudder violently.

"Cold?"

"A b-bit."

"Anybot got a blanket?" Jazz called out, hoping that at least one Enforcer had enough common sense to keep an emergency blanket in their subspace.

"I do." an older Enforcer answered, coming over and handing a tiny packet that fit in his hand.

Jazz tore it open and shook out the silvery, thin blanket that resembled tin foil. He draped it around Prowl's back, making him look like a reflective tent as it puffed around his doorwings.

"Hey, Ah see the medic. They're comin' over." Jazz answered.

Prowl stumbled to his pedes, despite Jazz's protests.

"Are you okay?" Jumpstart asked, hurrying over to push Prowl back down.

"'M fine. There...therse' someone i-in the alley over there." he stated.

"Prowl, there's-"

"There's someone i-in the alley!" Prowl exclaimed.

"Okay, okay." Ratchet vented harshly. "I'll check it out. Jump, take care of him. Be back in a minute."

"Jazz-"

"Yeah?"

"Assist him." Prowl said.

"Are ya sure?"

Prowl nodded as Jumpstart started to rummage through his own subspace. Jazz nodded and hurried after Ratchet.

"He saw someone over here?" Ratchet asked, turning down the only alley at the far end of the street.

"Ah guess. Ah didn' even know 'e went down this way." Jazz stated.

Ratchet hurried down it, as it was rather short. He checked both sides and behind the dumpster. He even looked up.

"There's nothing here." Ratchet exclaimed.

"Hey! Ratch! I need an assist!" Jumpstart's voice suddenly shouted, causing both Ratchet and Jazz to run and look towards where he had been last been seen.

Prowl lay on the ground, spasming as another seizure racked his frame. Jazz broke out into a frantic, breakneck run to get there, but still somehow ending up slower then the other medic. Then, just as soon as Prowl had started seizing, he stopped.

"Wha-" Jumpstart exclaimed before tensing and falling back.

"What is the meaning of this?" Ratchet exclaimed as Prowl sat up, letting has hands leave the stasis cuffs on the younger medic.

"Hey, you." Prowl beckoned a random Enforcer. "Get into his subspace.

"Sir?"

"Open his subspace!" Prowl demanded.

"You can't-" Ratchet started to argue, ranting and raving as his assistant's chassis was pried forward.

"Move." Prowl ordered the Enforcer aside as he started to rummage through the subspace himself.

"Prowl, what are ya doin'?" Jazz asked.

"What do you make of these?" Prowl asked, letting four empty needles clatter to the ground.

"I'd say he was a medic who was prepared!" Ratchet exclaimed, whipping open his own subspace and shattering a needle of his own on the ground.

"And these?" Prowl asked, setting aside a few pain chips.

Ratchet matched him, breaking three on the ground.

"Hmm..." Prowl thought.

"Get-get off me." Jumpstart pleaded, fear and panic in his optics.

"Get off my assistant!" Ratchet shouted.

"Prowl, let 'im go. Jus' what are ya-" Jazz was interrupted.

"I see you both are very prepared." Prowl said aloud. "Nearly ever situation, hmm? You need this stuff around the ER."

"Of course we do! We're _medics_!" Ratchetr exclaimed.

"So...I suppose you have these in your subspace as well?" Prowl asked, taking out six little bottles and setting them aside gently, each one clinking and clattering against the hard street.

Ratchet gasped a bit, and snatched up one of the bottles. "Magnesium oxide!"

"I-I-" Jumpstart stammered.

"Jazz, Ratchet, I would like you both to meet Doc." Prowl stated.

"Jump? You've been taking the stuff?" Ratchet asked, not even trying to hide the hurt in his voice.

"Ratch, I can explain. You see-"

"No!" Ratchet shouted, cutting the cuffed mech off. "There's no explanation for what you've done. You took medicine away from those who needed it, and gave it to those who used it wrong! You were _dealing my_ medicine!"

"I needed the creds, Ratch." Jumpstart protested.

"For what? You don't have a family, for what? You doing stuff to?" Ratchet demanded to know.

Jumpstart didn't answer, his optics downcast. Ratchet shook his helm, stupefied, and threw the bottle of magnesium oxide on the ground.

"Get out of my sight." the red and white medic glowered.

Prowl nodded at two Enforcers, in shock and awe at what they witnessed. They hefted Jumpstart to his pedes, and escorted him to a police trailer. A siren started and soon melted into the distance.

"I can't believe it." Ratchet vented, shaking his helm. "Ya think ya know a guy, and then you fine you never knew them at all."

Brokenly, he transformed and left the scene, all medic equipment that had been confiscated or shattered left behind.

"Poor mech." Jazz sighed. "How'd ya know?"

"Hmm?" Prowl asked. "How'd I know what?"

"Don't be stupid." Jazz rolled his optics beneath his visor.

"Oh, the case. It was quite easy. Easy enough for even you to guess if you'd just think it over." Prowl stated.

Jazz grumbled a bit. Prowl chuckled.

"Fine, you see, it would have been a bit more difficult if we hadn't gone to the hospital. At first, in my state anyways, I thought that Jumpstart was just a bit queer. Anybot can make a mistake, mix up drugs, and maybe he just found it easier to insert injections in the neck." Prowl started.

"But it wasn'." Jazz stated.

"Not at all. It wasn't until you made me rest that I was finally able to think it over. Now, he said that the drug had been set out for me in case I started seizing again."

"Ah know."

"Now, he never said that the other medicine he had gotten for me was left out. In fact, he said that he had to go _get _it. At hospitals, the drugs are usually kept in a glass container that is either locked or knows the digit prints of the medics for safety reasons. Now, if my seizure medication was left out, that would mean that it was most likely on the little desk outside my room." Prowl continued.

"Ya sayin' tha' he never made a mistake?" Jazz asked.

"No. He merely wanted to take the drug. Magnesium oxide, that it. So he subspaced it. Now, he could have simply taken the drug back out and set it on the counter. Instead, he packed it away so that he could keep it."

"Seems legit." Jazz stated.

"Now, another thing that was off with Jumpstart. He gave me the second drug in my neck cables. Like I said, could have just been a quirk, or seemed easier because I was sitting up."

"But no' so."

"Not at all." Prowl agreed. "He's used to giving injections in the neck, a common place for drugs of this sort. It's a hallucinogenic, and you get a much better 'buzz' from it when it's closer to the processor."

Jazz shuddered. "How'd ya figure Jump', though?"

"I told you, when you made me rest. I was able to think about it. Now, the missing drug dealer was called 'Doc'. You said 'the Doc', if I remember correctly. Now, most nicknames are given when a bot does a certain thing, has done something, or the like. Now, 'Doc' can only be a few things. He likes to fix things, or he's a doctor."

"An' ya put the two together." Jazz stated.

"The bottle in the basement."

"Hmm?"

"The small bottle. It was magnesium oxide. A medical grade, dose, everything. So I told you to call the medics-"

"Both Ratch and Jumpstart." Jazz nodded. "So ya could bust Jump'. I get it. Good thing they came anyways."

"Why is that?"

"Well...didn't ya get sick again? Shakin' and poor temp. regulation an-"

"I staged it."

"You did _what_ now?" Jazz exclaimed.

"I staged it. It was the only way to get Jumpstart alone with me for a few kliks." Prowl stated. "I couldn't very well just slap stasis cuffs on him, could I?"

"Ya kinda did."

Prowl scoffed a bit.

"Ya sayin' ya staged the _whole _thing?" Jazz asked, sounding a bit more then a bit angry.

"Well...not the whole thing." Prowl admitted. "I only got the idea after..."

"After wha'?" Jazz pressed after a few kliks had passed.

"After I collapsed."

"So ya did go down."

Prowl gave a single nod. "The shaking and poor temperature were not staged, at least, not at first. I had to stretch it a bit longer to keep up the façade, though. The seizure was completely fake, though."

Jazz nodded. "Ya know... tha' pretty much wraps up everythin'."

"Except?" Prowl asked.

"The reason why ya started getting sick again." Jazz stated.

Prowl vented. "The only way to explain that is to wait on the medic's tests. That aside, it was quite lucky that you got ill, Jazz."

"Wha'?"

"If you hadn't gotten ill, I wouldn't have caught anything it it would have been a bit more difficult to find Jumpstart." Prowl stated.

"Prowl, you said it was mah, but all this time you've compl-Ya know wha'? Never mind."

* * *

Jazz had never seen Prowl _worry,_ not outright, anyways. After a few orns, his resolve began to desolve and he slowly became a bit more panicky.

"It's been five orns! How long does it take for a simple energon test to come back?" Prowl asked.

Jazz shrugged. "Ya know ya only get worse when ya get worked up."

Jazz tried not to think about the episode Prowl had had an orn or so earlier when he had gotten very worked up over a simple debate. One that he wasn't even partaking in. One that was on a news channel.

It had been the same as when he had been at the crime scene. He became sick to his tank (actually gagging and nearly purging last time), shakey, and a bit disoriented. His temperature would drop severely, and it would take a few breems to regain himself.

His helm rose a bit as the outer comm. in the kitchenette rang. Jazz, who was all ready in there and looking for something to munch, quickly grabbed it. He was aware of the other's frame looming in the doorway, but was much more focused on the line on the other end.

"Hello? Ah'm his friend, rommate. Ya do? Tha's great. Really? Tha's good. S o...Okay. Tha's it? Ah'll tell 'im. Yep. Thanks again."

Prowl watched as he hung up the receiver. "Well?"

"They say tha' everythin' came back fine. Ya do, though, got some bad mineral levels. Tha's what's causin' ya ta get sick. 'Specially when ya get worked up. They want ya ta take some supplements for a bit, then test ya again ta make sure yer levels are back ta normal." Jazz explained.

"That all?" Prowl asked.

"Yep." Jazz nodded.

"See, Jazz? I told you that you had nothing to worry about." Prowl stated.

"Me?" Jazz exclaimed. "You were-"

"If you'll excuse me, Jazz, I'm going to go pick up those supplements now." Prowl said hurriedly as he walked right out the door.

"Pick meh up a news pad!" Jazz shouted out the still open door. "Ya threw it out again 'fore Ah finished it!"

* * *

Author's Note- Finally! This is the longest chapter I have ever written! I hope it was okay. 9,386 words minus the AN!

Yes, I know...a sickfic all ready. Really, this time it wasn't to easy my perverted mind! Actually, in a Sherlock Holmes case (Sir Author Conan Doyle; actual chapter slips my mind but it is in the Memoirs) Sherlock Holmes had fallen ill, but was on a case. During the case, though, he had a 'nervous fit' (spasmin, convulsing, pretty much a seizure) and in the end it is found that he had only used it as a distraction! I wanted to try it out so bad that I did it all ready!

Now, didn't really explain about Prowl's past much, will get into that maybe next chapter or later on in the story. I will be accepting ideas, but most likely will not be using them unless it is a VERY good idea!

Please review and have a lovely night/morning/evening/noon! (It's night when this was posted to all you future readers. BTW, how is the future?)


	4. Chapter 4 Bad Romance

**Chapter 4 Bad Romance or How a Femme Can Be**

* * *

Jazz stopped dead in his tracks. It felt as if someone had shoved a dagger through his processor and both of his optics. He couldn't think, couldn't breathe. He had only taken a step over the threshold of the door when he had become overwhelmed in every sense. He turned numbly as a cheery voice cut through the foggy air like a knife.

"Oh, Jazz, I was not expecting you back for some joors."

"I..." Jazz trailed off.

"Just take deep vents. Oh hold them." Prowl stated, opening a window. Jazz knew that it was sunny and bright out, but barely a beam of said sunlight made it through the thick fog of the apartment. "Iodine and silicon do not smell very nice when burnt, do they? Perhaps it was the Chlorine...oh, well. I'll just have to do it again."

"Wha'?" Jazz asked, the pain and fogginess subsiding as he either became used to the stench of the gas started to go out the window. "_You_ caused this?"

"Not one of my better experiments, I must say." Prowl stated, taking up a small collection of vials and dumping them down the drain. He began to clean out the instruments. "I've been meaning to mix them for awhile now."

"An' why would ya wanna do tha'?" Jazz asked, obviously irritated.

Prowl shrugged once. "To see what would happen. I record all of my findings in that pad on the table there."

Taking that as an offer to look inside, Jazz obliged and onlined the pad. His optics widened before he even went to the third page. "Ya blew up this place?"

"_Blew up_ is a bit of an exaggeration. It says that the chemical reaction, a mix of Synthetic forms of energon and a lighter, took out a fair portion of the living room."

"Synthetic 'gon?" Jazz asked incredulously. "Regular 'gon can blow, so why would ya test Synthetic stuff?"

"To compare the two. I learned that regular, natural energon has a larger flashpoint." Prowl stated, doorwings held up proudly.

"Hmm." Jazz just hummed, flipping through. "This says here ya actually ate somethin'."

Prowl shuddered a bit. "That I would rather not explain. I can only warn you to not ingest a mixture of Cybertronium and Radium. It is not pleasant."

"Ah'll keep tha' in mind." Jazz promised, rolling his optics a bit.

"While I pack these away, would you mind recording my entry for today?" Prowl asked, drying said instruments.

Jazz vented. "Wha' do ya want meh ta write?"

"The date, the time of day, and that Chlorine, Iodine and silicon create heavy, noxious fumes when mixed? I'll record the rest later, but there is a case coming in." Prowl stated, hurrying away.

Jazz found a stylus, neatly laying right above where the pad had been, and quickly wrote down the information. "We headin' to the station?"

"No."

"So...jus' you?"

"No."

Jazz set down the pad, quickly noting himself that it had seen better days. "So how ya know tha' ya got a case? Did ya get a call when Ah was out?"

"No." Prowl repeated once more. "But there is a femme outside who seems to be contemplating whether to come in or not."

Jazz, curious, went to the open window and looked below into the crowded street. A femme, rose pink and violet and looking very nervous, wandered up and down in front of the building.

"Maybe she's jus' lost." Jazz stated. "Or visitin'. This _is_ a big complex."

"Nonsense. She has entered and exited the main entrance a total of six times and then resumed her pacing." Prowl replied, again entering the kitchen and going to the cooler. "She will be up in about five breems, if she really wishes to speak to me."

Jazz snorted. "To you? Jus' what makes ya so sure tha' she wants ta talk to ya? She could be visiting someone else 'ere an' jus' nervous 'bout tha'."

"I thought of that, but no. Notice, Jazz, how she rocks a bit on her pedes every time she stops. She is contemplating something. Her age, a new adult, suggests a romance. Since she has come to me, she is going through the symptoms of a missing lover." Prowl stated as he set a cube of high grade on the coffee table.

"Symptoms?" Jazz all but laughed. "So, Doc, what are those?"

"For starters, she has been crying. Notice the gleam beneath her optics and on her cheeks? She has recently splashed cleaning fluid on her face, multiple times. Her optics are a bit brighter then a normal bots, from the excursion. They way she rubs her temple from time to time shows that she has a slight headache, from the crying. She is restless, and she keeps wringing her hands. All symptoms of worry." Prowl explained tirelessly, enjoying his own voice a bit too much. "Worry stemming from the fact that she has not heard from her lover."

Jazz shrugged, watching the pretty femme enter the building. "Ah'll humor ya for now. But why would she come ta see ya? Wouldn't she go to the Enforcers or maybe call 'er friends?"

"Plausible." Prowl contemplated for a moment. "Unless she does not feel that the case is large enough for the Enforcers and she does not wish her friends to know of her lover. Perhaps...one of them is with him now?"

Jazz just shook his helm. His processor was reeling. Maybe from the gas, still?

"Jazz, would you get the door?" Prowl asked.

"The-" Jazz was cut off by a series of harsh knocks.

Prowl vented. "She is determined now. Please get that before she dents the door and leaves. Then this whole process will start all over again."

Jazz, interested to see if it really was the femme or just some odd coincidence, called out and unlocked the door. Lo and behold, there stood a petit, slender femme of rose and lavender. She smelled of sweet, expensive perfumes and a silver bracelet adorned her wrist.

"Can Ah help ya?" Jazz asked, trying to not seemed too surprised.

"I-I've come to see...Prowl." she said breathlessly, seeming to teeter on her pedes a bit. "I've...be-been told he can help me."

"Jazz." Prowl scolded. "Let her in before she topples over! Now, sit down right here. Have a sip of this and you'll feel better in a klik."

The cube of high grade Prowl had taken out was shoved into her hands. She took a sip or two of it, and her light colors immediately darkened a bit.

"Thank you." she said quietly, looking at the floor.

"Now, what seems to be the problem that you've come to a detective?" Prowl asked. "You don't strike me as the kind to create terrible and gruesome crimes."

"Oh, no! Not me, sir." she exclaimed. "It's...it's my Engine. He's gone missing, sir."

Prowl sent a glance that could only be labeled smug to Jazz. "May I have your name and the time he went missing?"

"My name is Cherub." the femme answered quietly, her intakes hitching a bit. "My Engine went missing y-yesterday."

At the same moment she started crying again, Prowl started laughing. Jazz didn't look half as horrified as the femme, but he sent a look that sent his feelings across quite well.

"Ah! I knew I shouldn't have come here." Cherub cried, burying her face in her hands.

Jazz, hating to see a pretty femme so upset, gut up and seated himself next to her to comfort her. "Ah'm sorry mah roommate's such an aft."

"Please." Prowl scoffed. "You mean to tell me you are so worried about this mech when he's only been gone one orn?"

"That's just it, though!" Cherub sobbed. "He promised to call me. He went on a-a trip-"

"Business?" Prowl interrupted.

"Yes. Yes, a business trip. He's a reporter and travels a lot. He promised to call me as soon as he reached the Crystal City, but he never called! He's _never_ not called." Cherub stated, still crying a bit.

Prowl hummed a bit, his processor almost visibly turning. "So, this is a reporter for the _Iacon Daily_."

"I never-"

"What else could it be?" Prowl interrupted the femme."Now, be silent for a moment and let me think. He went away to the Crystal City to report on a new, young, budding artist. Help me, Jazz.. what was his name? He's yellow...a Twin..."

"Sunstreaker?" Jazz asked.

"Yes. That's the one. He's on display there for this quartex. On tour. Engine went there to get a news journal on the process...maybe some holo-scans. Thing is, he up and disappears without so much as a word to his girlfriend." Prowl rattled off. "Sound about right, Cherub?"

"I-I think so." she nodded slowly, unsure.

"Does he have any enemies?" Prowl asked quickly, startling the femme.

"Oh, no. Engine is a good-"

"Yes, yes, simply an angel that everyone loves. Not plausible. There must be some bot out there who doesn't like him. Now, _think_. Do you know anyone who really hates his guts? I mean, this bot, whoever he his, he would-heh- he would just _love_ to kill him and-"

"Prowl!" Jazz exclaimed as the femme choked on her own tears, vents hitching harshly.

Prowl vented, pinching the bridge of his optics. "Please, please, I need facts. Is there anyone who might have a slight hate of him. Maybe far enough to hire a hit-"

"Prowl." Jazz warned.

The femme sniffed, trying hard to calm down. "Well...well there was, there was this one bot."

"Name, mech or femme, height, color-"

"Slow down." Jazz added.

"Uh...his name was Gearslip. He was blue like my Engine, except Engine is a lighter color and has these little gold flecks on his-"

"Yes, yes, your boyfriend is hot. What about Gearslip?"Prowl brushed off her rambling.

"Well, he and Engine were up for the same promotion."

"And your boyfriend got it. Marvelous. I have narrowed down the location of your boyfriend to two places." Prowl stated.

"Really? Where?" the femme asked.

"He is either in berth with another femme, or he is lying dead somewhere." Prowl stated. "Somewhere in the Crystal City, on both counts."

The femme wailed a bit, hopelessly. Jazz patted her back. "There, now. I'm sure that Prowl's wrong. He's probably jus' forgotten the time, caught up in his work 'n all."

"Y-you really think so?" the femme sniffled.

"No." Prowl replied quickly. "He is only saying that to shut you up. Now, if you would be so kind, leave me your number and I will call you once I have found your Engine. Also...I could like his number too."

Half-crying, the femme sent him a data burst containing both numbers before fleeing that awful place. The moment she was gone, Jazz was on his pedes.

"Jus' wha' do ya thing you were doin'? She comes to ya lookin' for help-"

"Which I am giving."

"Ya coulda given' it better! How'd you like it if you were in her place, now?" Jazz dared.

"I would be thankful for the help, despite the fact that I do not need it, and you have been pleased to get a straight, honest answer." Prowl stated without batting an optic cover.

Jazz sunk back into his seat. "Yer hopeless. Abso-fraggin'-lutely hopeless."

"How fast can you get ready?"

"Huh?"

"Nevermind, you have two joors to get prepared. Pack light." Prowl said, rising and heading to leave.

"Where are we goin'?"

"I am going to think about this matter, then we are heading to the Crystal City to bring back Engine." Prowl answered.

Jazz grumbled yet nodded. "What do ya want meh ta pack for you?"

"I am all ready packed." Prowl replied, disappearing into his 'office'.

Jazz took a vent, trying to calm himself down before he said a few nasty things. Thinking it through himself, Prowl was probably right. He could have been a little more tactful, but he was probably right.

Well, no sense in standing around here. Even if Engine was found dead, at least he'd get a trip to the Crystal City out of it.

* * *

Jazz unshuttered his optics, watching the building blur by him. It seemed he wasn't going to be able to sleep on this shuttle. Oh well. He turned his attention to Prowl, who also had his optics closed and was leaning awkwardly in his seat.

It must be awful traveling with doorwings. They were splayed out in an uncomfortable position, but he was unable to do anything about them due to the servo-rests. He obviously wasn't asleep, being Prowl, but in thought.

"Cred fer yer thoughts?" Jazz asked, hoping for someone to talk to.

"The same they was at home." Prowl replied, optics still closed.

"I can't see into yer helm, Prowl." Jazz stated. "The case?"

"No." Prowl replied, shifting and venting as he sat forward a bit, optics now open.

"Really?"

"No, I've solved all I could with what intel I have. I've been thinking about what you said earlier, after Cherub left." Prowl admitted.

"An'?" Jazz pressed.

"Perhaps I was a bit rough, although I don't see why." Prowl concluded.

Jazz shook his helm, patting Prowl's lap playfully. "Good enough."

Prowl snorted a bit, settling back down into his seat to try once again to rest on the transport, which wasn't going to happen. Venting, Prowl reached under his seat and pulled out his travel case. It was a forest green with textured sides and a tanned handle. He moved it to the center aisle and lifted it's lid. Jazz peeped over his shoulder to see what he was looking for, and was a bit surprised at what he saw.

Now, in Jazz's own travel case (of about the same size) he had packed some polish, cleaning rag, extra credits, some music and one or two extra items he might need. Prowl, had no polish but a rag with no obvious meaning, clear baggies and latex gloves, facial masks in a protective bag of their own, and music of his own. While Jazz's music was on compact disks, though, Prowl's was manual.

He lifted out the stringed instrument, reminding Jazz very much of a violin. It resembled one perfectly, except it's wooden parts were made of stainless steel. It was painted, though, to resemble organic wood.

Jazz gave a low whistle. "Nice. Where'd ya get it?"

"I made it." Prowl replied, turning one of the tuning pegs and plucking one string, and repeating until he was pleased. "I had no access to wood and had to experiment with different metals. This was the only one that didn't rust or corrode after long periods of time."

Jazz nodded. "What's it doin' in yer case?"

"It helps me sort out my thoughts at times, and offers an escape at others." Prowl replied, sinking into his seat and closing his optics.

His fingers plucked at the stings along the neck, sending out different pitched thrums that vibrated through the air. After he had done so, he offered Jazz to hold and look it over.

Jazz held it up, inspecting it with an artists scrutiny. "This is nice."

"Thank you." Prowl answered, applying rosin to a handcrafted bow made with fiberglass. "If I may."

Jazz handed it back once Prowl had slid his travel case away. Sinking into his chair, Prowl placed his chin on the designated spot of the violin, an held it delicately by the neck, letting it rest in his hand. He pulled the bow across the strings, allowing a melodious, melancholy hum to stretch out. He pushed, and a higher whine called out.

Jazz shuttered his optics, allowing himself to be carried away by the mournful song. It stopped all too suddenly, abruptly even.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to put that away for now. It's late, and you're disturbing the other passengers." a femme transport hostess said, her light shades barely visible by the light given off by the cabin.

"It's only a bit of music." Prowl stated, setting aside his bow, though. "And I am quite certain that many bots here could fall asleep to it."

"Sir, I myself liked it, but there is a family up ahead with young ones that were woken up and causing a bit more noise then you were." the hostess said apologetically.

Prowl vented, the cry's of a young sparkling drifting to where they were seated. He nodded and replaced the instrument away.

"Thank you, sir." the femme replied before slipping away.

"Too bad." Jazz sighed. "Ah was startin' ta fall asleep ta that."

"Well, there is nothing stopping you from recharging." Prowl replied. "Our journey is for the rest of the night and for about three joors after rising time, as long as there is no hold up. I will stay up and keep watch."

Jazz snorted. "Keep watch? Jus' what do ya think is gonna happen? No, you get some rest too."

"You want _me_ to sleep in a transport full of others, each with a different intent, completely unguarded?" Prowl asked in slight astonishment.

"Yep."

"No. I wouldn't recharge, anyways. I will keep watch for the night, allow myself to tire-so to speak- and possibly recharge in the morning." Prowl stated.

"Possibly?" Jazz asked.

"I highly doubt that I will sleep at any time. If I do get a few joor in the morning, then fine. If not, then I will be none the worse." Prowl replied. "I have gone for orns without rest."

"An' tha's good how?"

"It doesn't matter. Good night, Jazz." Prowl replied, taking a data-pad from his subspace and onlining it.

Seeing it as Prowl's loss of a good night's rest, Jazz offlined his visor and was soon in recharge.

* * *

Jazz, as he usually did, onlined quickly. He stretched and yawned, instantly remembering that they were on a ground transport. Also remembering his conversation from the night, he half-spoke half-yawned.

"Ya get any sleep las' nigh'?"

"No." Prowl replied, his voice completely unaffected by fatigue.

"Ya look it." Jazz stated.

"Please." Prowl scoffed. "One night is not going to hurt me. I once stayed up an entire quartex to test something."

"Test wha'?" Jazz asked out of curiosity.

"How long I could go without recharge."

"An'? A quartex was it?"

"No. After that, I have to admit, I don't remember. A quartex was as far as I could remember, although I do know I must have gone another orn or so without before going into a forced recharge." Prowl answered indifferently.

Jazz snorted. "Tha's healthy."

"Just what is your obsession with health?" Prowl asked. "It is not like you or I are sickly."

Jazz shrugged. "Must be from mah Enforcer trainin'. Ya know how they make ya go through first aid an' all tha'."

"Ah." Prowl nodded. "And, yes, I do know that. Reputation only, although I did participate in some basic aid classes as a youngling."

"Ya mean ya aren't an Enforcer?" Jazz asked, surprised.

"Me?" Prowl snorted. "As if. I'm a consultant for the Enforcers and a private detective. Did you not wonder how that femme knew of me?"

"Ah did, but thought that maybe she was a friend. Or a friend of a friend." Jazz admitted.

Prowl snorted again. "I've never met that femme before in my life. I would have remembered."

"Yeah." Jazz humored.

"You don't believe me? I have remembered nearly every thing, of importance at least, since I was weaned." Prowl stated.

Jazz laughed outright. "Yeah, righ'."

"It was a Tuesday." Prowl started.

"Okay, okay!" Jazz tried to interrupt.

"It was cold, overcast, and drizzly." Prowl continued. "And-"

"Ah believe ya!" Jazz exclaimed, facepalming. "Primus, jus' get some sleep 'fore we get off, 'kay?"

"Jazz, we leave this transport in three joors. I-"

"Jus' enough time for a li'l' nap." Jazz stated. "Please?"

Prowl vented. "And if I refuse?"

Jazz thought for a moment. While they had been roommates for a good few groons now, they still didn't know each other very well. Like a lightning strike, Jazz had an idea.

"Fine, don' sleep. We'll talk."

"Fine." Prowl agreed.

"Did ya know tha' they've found a new planet?" Jazz asked.

"No! No, no, no!" Prowl exclaimed. He put two digits to his temples and shuttered his optics.

"Wha's wrong?" Jazz asked in a semi-teasing voice.

"I do not want useless information cluttering my processor!" Prowl grumbled. "No harm done... yet."

Jazz smirked. "Fine, then how about we talk about them letters ya wanted burned?"

Prowl face reddened, but not in embarrassment. "I told you to burn them!"

"What makes ya think Ah didn'?" Jazz asked quickly, trying not to think about the place they really were. In a lock box under his berth.

Prowl grumbled. "If I discuss this, will you lay off the recharge?"

"Yep." Jazz agreed, crossing his fingers out of Prowl's sight.

Or so he though. Prowl snatched up his hand and held it up, still crossed before Jazz could undo it. "Very mature, Jazz. Very mature."

"Says the mech that still takes bubble baths." Jazz smirked.

Now Prowl reddened in embarrassment. "Not always!"

"Jus' take a nap an' get it over with. Ah'll 'keep watch'." Jazz rolled his optics.

Prowl looked about, noting the others rousing. There were conversations starting. He didn't want to start...No. Even thinking about _it_ could make it start. It seemed that recharge was his only escape.

"Fine." Prowl muttered, looking out the window.

"Really?" Jazz asked, a bit surprised at the answer. "'Kay then. Night."

"It's morning." Prowl mumbled irritably, half-shuttering his optics and watching the building blur by.

Maybe he could get himself into a semi-hypnotic, relaxed state. Also, he could practice his Cyber-Su meditation (he was a bot of many talents). He focused only on his venting. In, and out. In, and out. In, and out. In...

Jazz was a bit surprised when Prowl actually slumped against his seat a bit, his ventilation even and slow in recharge. Good, he was going to need his sleep.

* * *

Primus. How he hated that. The only thing he hated more then recharging in a public was was being _woken up_ anywhere. There was no gentle, easy waking up for him. Even before he had onlined his optics, he was overwhelmed with chatter and noise.

The sparkling up ahead was crying again. Was it so difficult to feed it to shut it up?

The near adult younglings across the aisle, consisting all of femmes, chattered loudly about nonsense. So Blackmail was with Fauna. Big whoop. Give it another orn and they'd both have new dating partners.

The mech up ahead had the beginning stages of a nasty respiratory virus. Cover your mouth and stay away.

_Stop. Stop. Stop._ Prowl replayed the word again and again in his processor. This was the _it_ he so badly wished to avoid, and why he avoided public areas and parties and the like so diligently. Too much to take in, and yet he managed to take it _all_ in.

"Good, yer up."Jazz stated, oblivious to Prowl's mental torture. "The transport stops in ten breem. Though ya'd like ta be awake."

Prowl only grunted a bit, turning and focusing out the window. His glare could have melted it, had it been made out of lasers.

"Ya sure are grumpy after a nap." Jazz chuckled, chatting away.

Prowl refrained from growling, and even controlled himself from shutting the Polyhexian up. He found that if he focused only on his friend's talking, it made the noise about him a bit more manageable.

Not a moment too soon, the transport screeched to a stop. "Jazz, remind me that we are to _not_ take this train home."

"Why? Ah thought it was a pretty good ride. An' cheep for a las' breem ticket." Jazz argued.

"The brakes are giving away." Prowl replied calmly, grabbing his carry case and leaving the now nearly empty transport.

Jazz shuddered at the thought of riding it again. He grabbed his own luggage and followed.

* * *

Prowl looked at his similar colored friend as he laughed outright. "What?"

"What is tha' thing?" Jazz asked, flopping down on the cheap hotel room berth.

"An outer computer." Prowl replied.

"They still make those things?" Jazz asked. "Ah mean, don't ya got internet in yer helm?"

"Of course."Prowl replied. "And no, I'm afraid that these things are quite outdated. Terrible to maintain."

"Then why not scrap it?" Jazz suggested.

"A perfectly working computer?" Prowl asked, a bit shocked.

"If ya got a good workin' helm, why keep it?"

"Because, you cannot see into my helm, can you?" Prowl asked. "And I can't point things out in yours."

Jazz just shook his helm. "Ya could always highlight information in a data-burst."

Prowl shrugged. "It's easier this way.""

"Oh, yeah. So much easier cartin' tha' thing around." Jazz said sarcastically."What are ya lookin' up, anyways?"

"The news-pad from Iacon." Prowl replied, typing into the internet search engine.

"Ya can get tha' in yer processor, or even on an internet connected data-pad." Jazz stated.

"I prefer it this way."

"Whatev's." Jazz vented. "Do what ya want-"

"I plan to."

"Ah'm gonna take a shower." Jazz finished, barely caring about the interruption. They were so frequent he could now just talk through them without caring.

"Fine." Prowl said, no longer typing but leaning back, fingers steepled to his lips, and both reading and thinking at once. "Be sure to polish nice. We have a convention to attend."

"We do?"

"The Crystal City Art Convention." Prowl said, turning the laptop around to show its page contents.

"Neat."

"Very."

* * *

"Man. Ah don't think Ah've ever seen so many rich and uppity bots in one place ever."

"Have you ever gone to a political meeting, Jazz?" Prowl asked.

"No."

"Believe me, it is much more overbearing." Prowl vented. He turned sharply to avoid a nasty collision with his doorwings. "Although senators are much more likely to keep to themselves."

Jazz nodded. He was surrounded by sculptures, framed paintings, charcoal sketches, and even scraps of junk metal that he swore were superglued together. Prowl was pushing by all of them, not even giving them a second thought. He was aiming for one wing, rather closed off from all the rest.

"Drat." Prowl muttered under his breath.

"Wha's wrong?" Jazz asked.

"It's closed off. You need a pass." Prowl sighed, observing the guard placed before the wing he needed to enter.

"Hey, Ah'm an Enforcer." Jazz started.

"No. We do not want the attention. This is get in, get out." Prowl said quickly. "Let me handle this. Excuse me, sir."

"No pass, no entrance." the mech, red in color, replied sharply.

"I only wish to see-"

"Yeah, the art, I know." the red mech finished. "I've been dealing with you stuck up, rich bots all day. If you don't have a pass, you can't see it."

"Is your brother in there now?" Prowl asked.

The red mech started a bit. "My brother?"

"Of course. You are Sideswipe, correct? How humorous that your own brother would have you stand guard." Prowl continued, chit-chatting away.

"Well...Sunny doesn't trust Enforcers. Had a few bad run-ins with them." Sideswipe stated.

Jazz chuckled a bit.

"We don't care for your brothers art. We-"

"Hang on." Sideswipe interrupted sharply. "What do you mean you don't care for it? It not good enough for you? Stupid rich bots. I'll have you know that what he has in at least a hundred times better then whatever scrap you saw out there!"

"I didn't mean it in that way." Prowl vented, beginning o get irritated with the amount of time he as wasting. "We are not here for any art. We're looking for a bot. A reporter."

"There's been a few of them." SIdeswipe stated, still a bit broody.

"Blue." Prowl said simply.

"There's been two of them." Sideswipe stated. "But they both left awhile ago. Just missed them. Hey,are you reporters too?"

"No." Prowl replied. "What was the last blue reporter? Was a he a lightish shade, gold highlights?"

"Gold? Not that I remember, but there was a blue mech with pink on him. Between you and me, I think he was getting some." Sideswipe snickered.

Prowl nodded. "Thank you, then. We will be leaving you, now."

Sideswipe vented. "Ya know... I guess I could let you in for a second. I mean, you don't strike me as the other rich bots do. They really strip my bolts. And you don't strike me as reporters...just what are you?"

"Detective." Prowl replied. "And there is no-"

"A detective! Sweet!" Sideswipe exclaimed, causing Prowl to flinch a bit. "Like in the movies."

"No. The movies are terrible. And would you please keep your voice down?" Prowl pleaded, not wanting any attention.

"What kind of case are you on? Hey, are you like his sidekick? Neat. Has there been a murder? Here? Is Sunny in danger? I bet he's been targeted, hasn't he? What if it's me?" Sideswipe prattled on, exclaiming things and being much to loud for Prowl to stand.

"No! No murder." Prowl sighed. "Neither you nor your brother are in danger, and Jazz is not my sidekick."

"Def'netly not a sidekick." Jazz muttered.

Sideswipe looked disappointed. "Are you sure you don't want to see my bro's work? I mean, it's not my style, but it's pretty to look at."

Jazz looked at Prowl like a pleading puppy, surprisingly not difficult even with a visor. "Com'mon, Prowl. Jus' a peek? Ah mean, why go to an art show without even looking at somethin'?"

"Five breems." Prowl relented. "No more then that."

Sideswipe unlatched the rope, letting Prowl and Jazz pass. As it turned out, Sunstreaker was there and was in the process of clearing out.

"I thought I told my idiot brother to not let anyone in." Sunstreaker scowled, delicately wrapping up a piece depicting a crystal garden.

"It seems that he did not care." Prowl replied. "He was describing a bot to us, and let us in."

"Sides? Describing a bot?" Sunstreaker snickered. "The mech can barely tell his own face in a mirror."

"So you have a better memory?" Prowl asked. "Maybe better observation of details?"

Without a word, Sunstreaker set aside the wrapped painting. He motioned for the two to follow him. He looked through a few painting, each leaning up against each other and waiting to be packed away.

"Take a look at this." Sunstreaker stated, holding up a portrait of a noticable figure.

He was elderly, but not completely over the hill. His colors were red and white and blue, and he held a large hammer in his hand (used mainly for show).

"Sentinel Prime." Prowl stated.

"Our last Prime." Sunstreaker added. "Before Optimus, of course. He wanted _me_ to do his portrait. I did two, and left him with the worse of them. He didn't even notice that I gave him the messed up one."

"Messed up how?" Prowl pressed.

"Eh, I smudged the white a bit. Barely noticable, but yet it's still hanging in the Hall of Primes in Iacon." Sunstreaker stated proudly.

"You would have been better off with the other, then." Prowl stated.

"How come?" Sunstreaker asked.

"While accurate, you gave the last Prime six ear finial segments. He had five." Prowl stated."I just did a quick search, and you gave him five in the other."

"What?" Sunstreaker exclaimed, spinning the picture around and counting himself. "Fraggit!"

"Don't be too hard on yourself. As you said, it's barely noticable." Prowl said nonchalantly.

"You noticed it!"

"I notice everything." Prowl replied. "Now, your brother said that there was mech with blue of a semi-light color paint job with pink highlights."

"My brother is an idiot. You're talking about the reporters that came." Sunstreaker stated. "There were two blue reporters, one was indigo while the other was a more cerulean. The latter had a lot of pink, but he did have some gold on him."

"All right, then." Prowl stated. "Why, may I ask, are you packing away? The art show still has a few orns left."

"Not for me, it doesn't." Sunstreaker stated, looking distasteful at the picture he still had. "I'm moving on. It's my last orn of the show today."

"Engine's gonna miss out, then." Jazz stated.

"Engine?" Sunstreaker asked.

"The name sound familiar?" Prowl asked.

Sunstreaker shook his helm. "No, friend of yours?"

"Friend of a client." Prowl replied. "You should carry on, then. We will get out from underpede. Good day."

Sunstreaker returned the farewell as Prowl took Jazz from the art show. He didn't wait for Jazz, though, and continued up the street.

"Where ya headin'?" Jazz asked, hurrying to catch up, He found himself doing that a lot.

"Looking for a news stand." Prowl replied, catching sight of one at the corner and veering to go towards it.

"Something yer lookin' for?" Jazz asked as Prowl looked through the selection.

"The _Iacon_ pad." Prowl replied.

"Here." Jazz said, taking it up and onlining it. Prowl snatched it from him, and quickly flipped through it before going still.

"Somethin' interesting?"

"Very." Prowl replied, turning it around to show different pictures and inserts from the art show they had just left.

"So Engine got back to Iacon?" Jazz asked.

Prowl shook his helm. "Sideswipe stated that we had just missed them, meaning that he was here today. As was Gearslip."

"Both of 'em? Ah thought tha' they didn' like each other." Jazz stated.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean they were there at the same time. Take a look here. The smaller section done on a lower named artist was done by Gearslip...yesterday."

"So Gearslip is in Iacon."

"Yes."

"And Engine isn't?"

"Engine is at _The Royal_." Prowl stated, naming a fancy hotel.

"An' wha' makes ya so sure?" Jazz asked.

"He named the place in his own insert."

"But Engine's here in the Crystal City! He couldn'-"

"Aren't you the one who told me that a bot could send data-bursts?" Prowl asked. "Nevermind. just come on. Better yet, buy the news-pad and meet me there."

"Me? Ah don' want it." Jazz stated.

"I'll reimburse you." Prowl stated before running out into traffic, causing a good deal of cursing and beeping.

Jazz vented and took out some credits. Never a dull moment.

* * *

By the time Jazz had bought the news-pad, gotten himself to _The Royal_, and found which room to go to, Jazz was ready to knock someone's helm off. A bot with doorwings and with a rather large ego.

The fantasy of making helms roll, though, fled after he was permitted entrance into a hotel room. It was nice. Nicer then what he and Prowl were in. There were actually adjoining rooms, and a wash rack that probably wasn't growing black mold (that a certain someone was taking samples of to test on later).

Prowl was seated in a low-backed chair, more of a stool. A bot, blue in shade and with obvious gold highlights sat in a chair, nervously twiddling his thumb digits.

"Jazz, it took you long enough. You're just in time, though. Engine here was about to tell what he's still doing in Crystal City, and with another femme." Prowl stated.

"What?" Engine exclaimed. "Another femme? How dare you!" he exclaimed, leaping to his pedes. "I have a femme! Her name's Cherub, and she's all I need!"

"But is she all you want?" Prowl asked. "I must congratulate you. That section you did in the _Iacon_? It was amazing. How fast did you write it out, five breems? I could tell by the way it was written."

"I haven't-"

"Oh, no? Then how did I read about your interview with Sunstreaker today?" Prowl asked, motioning for the news-pad Jazz had purchased. "You interviewed him just today too!"

"I told them not to print it until tomorrow!" Engine exclaimed in a heated anger, stopping just as he made a slip. "I-I mean,-"

"Would you mind if I used your wash racks?" Prowl asked rather suddenly, rising to his pedes. "It might help you get your story together if you have some time. Believe me, the honest one will be the easiest told."

With that, Prowl disappeared into the wash racks, leaving a flabbergasted Engine and a both amused and confused Jazz. No more then five kliks later, Prowl was back and holding something.

"It must be very lonely at times." Prowl said aloud. "Being a reporter, all alone in a hotel room for long periods of time."

"It is." Engine replied cautiously. "Which makes it all the better when I return to Cherub."

"Still trying to sell that?" Prowl snorted. "No matter. I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of going through your medicine cabinet."

"You did-"

"It's amazing what you need when you're alone." Prowl stated, opening his hand and revealing a small bottle of crimson drops. He untwisted it, and smelled the contents. He snorted like a dog that had smelled something too strong, and even sneezed once.

Jazz chuckled as he took the bottle, saving it from a nasty spill. He smelled it himself, and raised an optic ridge at Prowl. "A bit melodramatic, don' ya think? It's jus' some interfacin' enhancers."

"Disgusting." Prowl grumbled. "How that helps, I'll never understand. But just what does a single bot, all alone, need these drops for? I mean, they do nothing when one is alone. No. You need a partner to get these to come into effect."

"Okay!" Engine exclaimed. "I admit it. There's another femme."

"Oh, there's more then another." Prowl stated. "You have one for every town and city you visit on a regular basis."

"How do you know that?" Engine asked in shock.

"You just confirmed it." Prowl stated. "Cherub is just another femme. You have no real feelings for her, nor for the femme you 'faced while you were here."

"How would you know that?" Engine grumbled.

"Because, it was reported that you had pink smudges on you." Prowl stated. "You interfaced with another femme while you were here, you sent your report to the press ahead of time so that you could spend another night with said femme, and planned to return to Cherub tomorrow, correct?"

"Yes." Engine vented, sinking into his chair.

"Oh, don't look so distraught." Prowl stated. "It's not like I'm going to tell her."

"You're not? Wait- what are you doing?" Engine asked as Prowl neared a video comm. caller, quite standard in those fancy hotels.

"_I _am not telling that femme, but _you_ are." Prowl stated just as the vid. screen flickered to life.

"Hello? Prowl? Have you found my Engine?" Cherub asked, her worried face bright on the screen.

"Have no worry, he is right here." Prowl stated. "And he has some explaining to do."

"What?"

"He's not faithful. Oh, he wants to talk to you!" Prowl exclaimed cheerfully as Jazz pushed the blue mech into the vid. comm. screen.

"O-oh...hey, Cherub. What's up?"

Jazz was shocked at how fast the femme went from worried to outright beastly. He felt a tugging on his servo.

"That is our cue to leave, Jazz." Prowl stated in a lower voice.

"Agreed."

* * *

Jazz was surprised once again after Prowl insisted that they stay until the next orn. His logic had been that they had rented to hotel room for the orn and the night, and had payed ahead. Why waste it?

He had been even more surprised after Prowl had insisted that they go to the Crystal Gardens. Now, he might not be a super-genious, but he was no dunce. He knew that Praxus (Prowl's hometown) was known for it's Crystal Gardens. Why go to a remake of them in another city,then?

Somehow, in their wanderings, they had gotten separated. Prowl had ignored his comm. call, so he refrained from calling again. Instead, he went looking for him. It was the beginning stages of sunset by the time he found him.

He halted, though, and slowly came closer. Something looked wrong, but not in the sense that there was any danger. Prowl stood alone, his frame reddened by the warm hues of the falling sun, his hand on a large crystal. It soared above him, but his optics were planted firmly on one spot at eye level.

"Everythin' okay?" Jazz asked.

Prowl didn't even start, only allowed his hand to slip from it's resting place. The crystal at which had his full attention was a deep shade up purple, going black near the top, and then bursting to bright yellow at the very tip. He traced a pattern on it's hard side, never scratching it but as if seeing something that was not there.

"Young love is a strange thing, isn't it? This case today has caused me to dwell on it quite a bit today." Prowl said, his voice even and low.

"Yep." Jazz agreed.

"You never...never know what's going to happen until it does, and then there is nothing you can do about it." Prowl seemed to explain, something close but not quite sadness in his calm voice.

"I guess." Jazz shrugged. "Something ya wanna talk about?"

"Not particularly." Prowl replied. He stooped close to the ground, and pawed at the dirt.

"What is it?"

"A crystal base." Prowl replied, a crystal very similar to the larger on is his hand. "Come on, Jazz. It's getting late."

Jazz nodded and let Prowl take the lead. He waited a moment and looked back at the tall crystal, very much resembling an organic Iris. It was accented beautifully by the almost gone sunset.

He vented once before turning and quickening his pace. No point in getting left behind...again.

* * *

Author's Note- That one was a bit obvious, wasn't it? I love writing mysteries, but I fear that I absolutely SUCK at them!

A bit more into Prowl, hmm? Both digging into emotions without. Not a lot of explanation, but a BIG hint for those who want to try and start guessing.

Reviews feed the plot bunnies! And my bunnies are STARVING! :)

Also, I am taking any and all suggestions, although I may not use all of them. :)


	5. Chapter 5 Missing

**Chapter 5 Missing or How Talking Can Solve Your Problems (More then your feet can)**

* * *

Big thank you's to all who reviewed last time!**Autobot Slipstream, Moonwalker, and BossBot97, Angel Heart (guest)**

**Reviews are appreciated. Constructive criticism is welcome too :)**

Jazz kicked back in his chair, relaxing after a rather tiring day. Nothing big happened, it was just tiring. What he needed was a cube of energon and a good night's rest. Prowl had a private case,_so _private that he couldn't even tell Jazz what it was about. Much to Jazz's annoyance, the mech had locked himself in his 'office' three orns ago and had yet to leave it.

A knock sounded at the front door. Jazz cocked an optic ridge in the direction, more than willing to ignore the knock at the door instead of leaving his warm perch and the mindless nonsense he was watching on the holo-vid.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

The knock sounded again. Jazz sighed and stood slowly, switching the holo-vid off with an annoyed glance at the door. He slowly ambled towards the door and opened to tell whoever it was to go away, the detective was busy, and if it really was urgent, to go to the Enforcers.

Only he didn't even get to open his mouth.

A somewhat unpolished, blue and orange Praxian mech gave him one appraising look, then push him aside and hobbled straight towards the fridge.

Jazz stood with his mouth agape, staring incredulously after the brazen mech. _What the…?_

"Hey!" Jazz exclaimed in annoyance still standing at the open door. "Jus' wha' the frag do ya think yer doin'?"

The mech turned slowly and gave Jazz a crooked grin. Jazz had to admit that it was probably the least charming smile he had ever received from the most unhandsome bot he had ever seen. The hunched back, sporting doorwings that hung awkwardly gave the mech the appearance of being beyond ancient, and the limp did nothing to improve that image either. But the oddest thing about the mech was the one, grayed, broken optic stared unseeingly and rather persistently at Jazz. At least the other was squinting at him. Jazz though ruefully.

"Gettin' some fuel. I'm starvin'." he said in an aged, cracked voice before turning towards the kitchen again.

Jazz stood flabbergasted at the open door, torn between giving the bot some much-needed fuel and sending him on his way or just plain kicking him out. The lunatic had basically just _broken _into his home, acting like he owned the place! That clinched it.

"Ah don' care if Primus himself sent ya'! Ya can't jus' barge on in 'ere!" Jazz exclaimed. "Now get!" He said as he nodded towards the open door.

The mech snorted, and then broke into laughter, shaking his head.

Jazz took a step back, completely shocked. This mech was insane, completely, utterly insane! His hand flew to his subspace and he whipped out a pair of stasis cuffs while he moved towards the crazy mech.

The mech, still laughing, controlled himself. "Jazz, put those things away before you hurt someone." A very cultured voice ordered.

Jazz stopped dead in his tracks. He sounded so much like...no. It couldn't be. Jazz squinted at the mech. Praxian…voice…his mind whirled.

The mech ducked his helm and pulled out a gray, cracked optic lens. Two blue optics beamed out, and he straightened up to his full height, his doorwings returning to their original positions high on his back.

"Prowl?" Jazz asked, disbelief coloring his voice as he stepped closer, still holding the cuffs. Maybe _he _was insane.

"Of course." the mech, or rather, Prowl, replied as he stretched and flexed his doorwings.

"But...why? How? Your colors!" Jazz exclaimed as he motioned at Prowl's paint, his thoughts and words jumbling as he tried to reconcile the picture in front of him with the clear-cut image of Prowl in his processor.

"Please try to speak in a coherent manner." Prowl stated, some irritation bleeding through. " I used paint nanites. You are familiar with them, correct?" Prowl asked to which Jazz nodded numbly. "They will simply wash off in a bath." He said as he reached the fridge and took out a fresh cube of mid-grade.

Jazz grumbled and subspaced the cuffs. "Mind telling meh jus' _what _ya were doin' disguised like tha'?" He asked as he closed the front door then headed to the living room while listening to Prowl explain.

"It had to do with the case. It is solved, and all is well now. I was still partially disguised on my way back home, though, and wanted to test it and see what your reaction was." Prowl stated. "And, I must say, I was nearly correct in my speculations. I expected, though, to be thrown to the floor after barging in here."

"Ah was about ta." Jazz returned. He crossed his arms over his chest and shook his helm, wrinkling his olfactory as he did. "Ah can' stand lookin' at ya like tha'. Go wash up."

"Can't I refuel first?" Prowl asked as he cocked his optic ridge at Jazz. He raised the fresh cube in his hand towards Jazz.

"Ya've gone, wha' three-four orns wi'out eatin' so far? Ah don' think five breem'll kill ya." Jazz grumbled. They stared at each other for a few kliks.

"Fine." Prowl relented as he slapped the cube of energon on the counter. "I'll go wash up. If I pass out, though, it'll be on your head." He threatened as he headed towards the wash racks.

Jazz shrugged unsympathetically. "Ya'd have brought it all on yerself."

Prowl scoffed and huffed into the wash racks.

Jazz shook his helm and flopped back onto the sofa to catch the last few breems of the show he was watching before the rude and, in his opinion, unnecessary interruption.

His audios caught the sound of sprinkling liquid. _So, no bubble bath today. Prowl must really be starvin'_. Jazz thought as he got absorbed in the show.

Jazz growled as a loud pounding sounded at the door again. He threw his head back. Could he at least watch one show uninterrupted? He threw the remote down on the couch and stalked over to the door. He threw it open to reveal non-other than a red and blue Praxian.

_Seriously? Again? _Jazz thought as he looked at Prowl.

"Ah thought Ah told ya ta take a shower." Jazz stated, clearly showing his annoyance at this youngling behavior. "Now go. Ah don' even care how ya changed the nanites and got 'ere again. Jus' go get cleaned, drink yer 'gon and leave meh alone."

"Nanites?" Prowl frowned, his confusion clear in his voice.

Jazz snorted. He wasn't up to this today. "Stop playin' coy with meh Prowl. Ah'm no' in de mood!" Jazz paused. _Coy. Huh. Guess yer rubin' off on meh, Prowl._

"Prowl? I think you're mistaken. My designation is Smokescreen."_Smokescreen _stated, scoffing at the smaller mech.

Jazz gave him a flat stare. He wasn't falling for that again. "Yeah, an' Ah'm Optimus Prime." Jazz replied. "Go…"

"If you are Optimus Prime, then I am Elita One." a rather wet black and white Praxian stated.

Jazz whirled around. "Prowl?" Jazz asked. "If yer...then who's-"

"Smokescreen." Prowl growled, his frame language openly hostile towards the Praxian at the door.

"Prowl." the red and blue mech returned in much the same way. An awkward silence filled the room as the two Praxians stared at each other.

Jazz cleared his vents, "Uh, mind introducin' meh?" he asked cautiously.

Prowl kept his gaze focused on Smokescreen as he spoke to Jazz. "Jazz, meet my _relative_, Smokescreen." he spat, then turning sharply and went into the kitchen to finish his cube of energon.

"Brother." Smokescreen corrected as he stalked into the apartment.

"Brother? Ah didn' know ya had a brother." Jazz stated, his tone denoting that he was supposed to know something like that.

"As much as it pains me, yes." Prowl replied, sipping his cube as he took a seat on the sofa.

"Two, actually." Smokescreen corrected as he sat opposite Prowl, never once looking away from Prowl.

"Ah, yes. Bluestreak. How is the youngling?" Prowl asked, actually showing some interest in one of his brothers' well-being.

Jazz also made himself comfortable in his seat as he watched the spectacle in front of him. _Maybe this is better than that reality show._ He smirked to himself as he tuned back into the conversation.

"That's why I'm here." Smokescreen replied, though worry had crept into his voice and some of the hostility ebbed away.

"Please tell me he has not followed in your footsteps." Prowl snapped, his gaze blazing.

Smokescreen vented hard. He looked away briefly before turning to Prowl, his optics pleading. "The past is the past, Prowl. I've apologized-"

"Words mean nothing!" Prowl hissed. "Now state your business quickly or remove yourself from _my _home."

Jazz slid a sideways glance at Prowl. He had never before seen this type of behavior from Prowl, and immediately his curiosity was peaked.

"It's Blue." Smokescreen resumed quickly. "He's gone missing." He said and leaned back in the sofa.

"Can't blame him." Prowl stated coldly, taking another sip as he stared into nothing. "Anything is better than being under your custody."

"Prowl…" Smokescreen began.

"Business or leave." Prowl refocused his cold glare on Smokescreen.

"I have reason to believe that he was taken against his will." Smokescreen growled as he watched Prowl.

Prowl set his cube on the side table and leaned forward. "Kidnapped? A ransom note? A letter, anything?"

"Ransom." Smokescreen replied, going into his subspace and taking out a data-pad. Prowl snatched it away , onlining it and read aloud:

_'If you ever want to see Bluestreak again, go to the docs. Bring a ransom'_

Prowl's optic brows furrowed. This was indeed a cryptic note. "Have you looked into this?"

"I came here first." Smokescreen admitted as he leaned forward, clasping his hands before him.

"Why haven' ya called the Enforcer's?" Jazz asked gently. He couldn't help but notice the older Praxian's dejectedness and weariness.

"As much as I would have liked to, and save myself a trip here." Smokescreen bristled as he looked at Prowl. "Prowl knows what to do better, much as I hate to admit it."

"You need my help." Prowl stated smugly as he sat back in the sofa, eying Smokescreen with a smug smile.

Smokescreen pressed his lips together. "_Bluestreak _needs your help." He growled.

Prowl narrowed his optics at Smokescreen, anger rolling off him in waves. "Then understand me well, I am doing this for him. Not you."

"That is all that I ask." Smokescreen said, an anxious tone in his voice that Jazz, or any Enforcer, knew all too well. Despair. Hopelessness. Regret. Jazz felt a pang of sympathy as he watched Smokescreen clasp and unclasp his hands.

Prowl vented. "A few more questions, but not about you."

"Prowl…" Smokescreen whined.

Prowl cut him off ruthlessly, a set expression on his face. "How long has he been gone? When did you last see him? What company does he keep? Wh-"

"Prowl." Jazz interjected this time, raising a hand to rub the side of his helm. Really, Prowl could be so insensitive.

Prowl paused and shot Jazz a warning glare. Smokescreen saw that as his moment to answer before he could be bombarded with more questions.

"He-he's been gone since this morning."

"And you never bothered to tell me? It's nearly night!" Prowl's attention shot back to Smokescreen, a note of alarm slipping through his words.

"I thought he was out!" Smokescreen shouted back at his brother as he raised his arms in exasperation. "And I didn't even find the note until I went back to his room and tore it apart!"

"It was on the berth, wasn't it?" Prowl asked scathingly, already knowing the answer as he leaned back on the sofa.

Smokescreen shot him a warning look, his temper still simmering under the surface. Venting hard, he forced himself to calm down. Bluestreak was all that mattered at the moment, not Prowl. "Where I found it doesn't matter. I was out looking for him all day, comming non-stop. I saw him last night. We were reading." Smokescreen stated.

Prowl snorted, scoffing. "Together?"

"That's what 'we' means." Smokescreen replied sharply. "We do it every night."

Prowl scoffed again throwing a look at Smokescreen that Jazz couldn't decipher.

"Now, about the company he keeps?" Prowl asked tilting his head and cocking his optic ridge.

"He doesn't have many friends." Smokescreen stated. "And the few he does I keep an optic on."

"Why? You don't trust them?" Prowl asked as he leaned forward again.

"No, it's not that. Just..."

"Just what, Smokescreen?" Prowl snapped.

"I didn't want a repeat!" Smokescreen exclaimed. "I can't do that again."

"So glad you're making it up." Prowl snarked. "Too bad it's the wrong way."

"Prowl, I've tried. I'm still trying. What do _you _want me to _do_?" Smokescreen pleaded as he rubbed his hands over his faceplates.

"I want you to leave." Prowl replied harshly as he got up and moved towards the window, his doorwings held high.

Smokescreen dropped his hands as he got up. "But, Blue…" he began.

"I need time to think. I'll call." Prowl replied curtly, still not looking at Smokescreen.

Another silence stretched out before Smokescreen spoke softly. "Why don't you just come over? I know you know the way."

Prowl pursed his lips. "Fine. Just get out." Prowl replied after a moment, turning around. "Now."

Smokescreen vented, but nodded his head slowly. "I'll be waiting, then."

"Com'on" Jazz said as he took Smokescreen's elbow and escorted him to the door. "See ya 'round." Jazz said as the door slid closed. He waited a moment. "Wha' was tha' all about?"

"I don't wish to discuss it." Prowl replied. "I need to…"

"Ya can think all ya want after ya tell meh what was goin' on." Jazz demanded sternly, his visor darkening slightly as he set his jaw determinedly.

Prowl turned to face Jazz. "There isn't time…" He growled.

"Then ya better talk fast." Jazz stated.

Prowl kept his gaze. What was with this mech's stubbornness and his meddling in Prowl's affairs?

"Prowl. I ain't goin' no place till ya tell meh wha' tha' was all about." Jazz warned.

Prowl took a calming vent before giving Jazz a curt nod. "Sit." Prowl demanded, pointing into the small living room.

Jazz did so, seating himself on the sofa as he waited for Prowl to continue.

Prowl quick sat down in an armchair specifically designed for doorwingers, right across from Jazz.

"What do you want to know? Quickly." Prowl demanded.

"Let's start with what was goin' on between you an' yer bro? Ah mean, Ah ain't no psychologist, but even Ah can tell there's somethin between ya." Jazz started.

Prowl snorted. "Smokescreen is."

"Is wha'?" Jazz asked confused.

"A shrink." Prowl replied, deliberately using the term. "He actually went to college to learn how to guess. I've been doing that since my first upgrade, actually, deducing, not guessing." Prowl shrugged.

"Prowl, yer gettin' off subject." Jazz said as he pointed a finger at the Praxian.

The Praxian growled. "Fine, you want to know why the relationship between my brother and I is so strained? Well," he snorted, "it certainly was not _my _fault!"

Jazz rolled his optics. He was going to have to drag everything out of Prowl, and Prowl was the one that wanted everything to be done 'quickly'. "Okay, so what did Smokescreen do?" Jazz asked.

"Smokescreen had a gambling problem. Or rather, _addiction_." Prowl corrected himself. "Got into debt, bad company, the like. Nearly killed our creators because of it. Carrier actually did die after having Blue. Sire followed, bond relationship and all." Prowl looked down and clasped his hand over the edge of the arm rest.

"Ah'm sorry." Jazz said wholeheartedly.

Prowl shrugged indifferently. "Smokescreen was legal age when they offlined. He took charge of both me and Blue. Being if age and matured enough for such responsibility, though, are two entirely different things." He said darkly.

"Smokey wasn' ready, then?" Jazz deduced.

"Far from it." Prowl admitted. He was only answering questions, not getting into a deep and emotional subject, he reminded himself. "He left me to care for Blue while he went out. Sometimes to gamble, sometimes to actually do honest work."

"How old were ya' and Blue?" Jazz asked.

Prowl didn't even have to think. "Blue was just a sparkling, and I was his age now. Roughly ten vorns."

"Pretty young ta be carin' fer a sparklin' a_n' _school." Jazz stated, as if sharing Prowl's 'pain'. In truth, he felt a bit of anger rise up towards Smokescreen, but quickly squashed it. It was in the past and the mech had said he had apologized.

"School?" Prowl asked. "No. No school. No time for it. Besides, it's only useless information that you'll never need. I know what math I need to pay my bills and make change. Who needs to know how to take a sentence apart or do complex equations unless you tend to go into that field?"

"Ah asked tha' mahself." Jazz snickered. "Got sent ta the principal's for doin' so."

Prowl actually snorted. "Now, is your curiosity sated?"

"Almost." Jazz promised. "Ah can see why ya'd be upset, but Smokey said he's apologized an' the like."

"Apologized? Yes. He's given up gambling. Yes, he's orally apologized, but he has never given me reason to think that he is really _sorry_. He's taken over raising Blue, I took care of the youngling while he went to college, but he's taken over now. He thinks he can make up for what he did with _me _by being a near perfect caretaker with Blue." Prowl prattled on, his face completely bare of emotion.

"Is tha' such a bad thing?" Jazz asked when Prowl didn't continue.

"Reading? Ha. Never read with me." Prowl stated.

Jazz eyed Prowl. "Do ya want 'im ta?" he asked.

Prowl paused as if considering. Finally he shook his helm. "No. He is terrible at reading aloud. Sounds like a drone. I thought it was the thought that counted, though."

Jazz vented. "Like Ah said, Ah ain't no psychologist…"

"Then don't try to be one."

"But Ah think ya want yer brother ta do somethin' with ya. Make up for the fact 'e wasn' there for ya when ya needed 'im." Jazz finished.

Prowl thought for a moment, a deep look crossing his face. The next moment, he spluttered and laughed dryly. "That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Now, if you are quite done with your questions and stupid deductions, I have a brother missing, which I would very much like to find!" He said as he rose.

Jazz nodded, but remained seated. "How long are ya gonna be?"

"A joor is all I can spare sorting things through." Prowl admitted. He looked sternly at Jazz. "I do not want any noises or disturbances."

"Ah'll do mah best." Jazz smirked lopsidedly.

Prowl gave a quick nod and disappeared into his 'office', which Jazz had dubbed 'the thinking room'.

* * *

"Do ya have any idea where Blue is?"

No answer. Nothing but the sound of the metal hitting hard ground from their pedes and their heavy breathing from the speed. Well, actually just his own heavy breathing. Prowl seemed too out of it to even get winded.

He always got this way when he had to think out of his quiet room. It was almost like a trance, and he focused on nothing but his own thoughts. It was amazing he didn't walk into traffic while…Jazz paused his line of thought. Actually, it was amazing he didn't somehow get himself killed while in this state.

Jazz had once asked Prowl about it, but Prowl could only describe it as his 'mind palace' or something silly like that. A place, a mansion due to its size, that he would wander around. Going from room to organized room, comparing things, adding new information, getting rid of nonsense.

Jazz continued following a brooding Prowl. They had been travelling in silence for close to a joor now. They had driven for most of it, but Prowl had suddenly turned into a quiet lane and transformed back to bi-pedial mode. They were walking with only the moons' light to guide them.

That, and a well cut, easy to follow trail. A trail that led to a small, little cottage. It was quaint, really. Smokescreen must be making good credits as a shrink to afford something like this near Iacon.

Prowl walked straight to the door and knocked loudly. There was a small scurry on the other side before the door flew open. Smokescreen motioned them inside and opened his mouth to speak but Prowl cut him off.

"Blue's room. Now." Prowl ordered.

"It's the same since you've left." Smokescreen stated.

Prowl easily navigated through the house. So Jazz's original guess that Smokescreen had bought the place was wrong. It must have been their home since their creators had offlined.

"You're an idiot." Prowl growled as he entered the youngling's ransacked room.

The berth padding had been torn off and tossed aside in a frenzied, panicked search. Drawers had been dumped out, and then the drawers themselves tossed aside. The room was completely trashed, to say the least.

"I didn't know what to do." Smokescreen defended himself. "I was looking for something-anything, that might give me a clue where he was!"

"Who is Doc?" Prowl asked, reminding Jazz of a case that had been solved not too long ago. At least they knew that _that_ Doc was safe behind bars.

"Doc?" Smokescreen asked in bewilderment.

"Is it a friend of his?" Prowl asked.

"I don't know of anyone called Doc." Smokescreen stated.

"Does Bluestreak have a nickname?" Prowl continued, picking through the stuff Smokescreen has tossed about.

"Blue." Smokescreen deadpanned, giving his brother an obvious look.

"No! Does he have a nickname designated by his friends! Doc has to be a nickname!" Prowl exclaimed as he looked at Smokescreen.

"Not that I know of." Smokescreen admitted.

Prowl growled as he continued to rummage through the mess. "Why would the kidnapper tell you to go to 'the Doc's' if you don't know who Doc is?"

Smokescreen shook his helm. "I don't know." he said, distraught, looking around the room. "I don't know." He repeated softly as he buried his helm in his hands.

Jazz placed a hand on the broken mech's shoulder and gave a gently squeeze. Smokescreen seemed grateful for that, not yelling at him to 'get' as Prowl might have.

"Have you received any more notes?" Prowl asked.

"No." Smokescreen said as he folded his arms over his chest.

"Are you certain?" Prowl asked as he looked around the room.

"Yes." Came the soft, but final, answer.

Prowl grumbled, pacing the room, hand behind his back. "No Doc, no more notes." He mumbled to himself. "The ransom!" he stopped and whirled to face Smokescreen and Jazz. "Do you know how much it is? The note said nothing about how much or what the kidnapper wanted."

Smokescreen shook his helm. "Prowl, there has been nothing. I'm as lost as you-"

"I am not lost!" Prowl exclaimed vehemently as he resumed his pacing.

"Then where do we go from here?" Smokescreen asked throwing his arms up in the arm and dropping them again.

Prowl stopped his pacing, helm still low. He never moved, never looked up. "I don't know." He admitted softly.

Something similar to a keen left Smokescreen as he sat down heavily on the floor.

Prowl looked at him in disgust. "Get up." He spat.

"Prowl." Jazz raised a hand. "It don' matter what who did ta who in the past. Yer younger bro, innocent in all o' this, is missin'. An' you of all mechs don' know wha' to do. Ah'd say it looked pretty grim." He grimaced.

"We are not giving up!" Prowl said firmly, shaking his helm.

"Ah'm not sayin' to, Ah'm jus' sayin' bein' nasty ain't helpin' nobot get Blue back faster." Jazz stated. "Why don' we look through his stuff, hmm? Maybe we'll find a clue there."

Prowl grumbled and nodded. Jazz gave a relieved vent. Prowl never allowed himself to get emotionally involved in anything, but that didn't mean he was entirely emotionless. Hardship had caused him to learn to push feelings away and hide them well, but there were still 'symptoms' – as Prowl liked to put it.

_Not starting with the obvious, for example._ Jazz thought as he watched Prowl drop to his knees and start sifting through all the junk that most younglings were inclined to gather. Jazz dropped down beside Prowl and started sorting through some stuff.

Little knickknacks and the like were scattered everywhere – a small crystal souvenir from a Praxian gift shop, photos of him with his friends, bookfiles, things like that. Prowl went quickly, tossing things about in a way Jazz much pictured Smokescreen had originally gone through them.

Jazz, not as emotionally compromised as the Praxians' were, was able to think a bit better. He cleared his mind. What would Prowl do if he weren't borderline panicking right now?

He'd search things. Well, he was doing that now but not very observant. Jazz was going to have to observe, very keenly. He stood up and glanced around the chaotic room. Was there anything odd with the floor?

Yes. It was carpeted, nothing odd there at first glance, but he had to look closer. It was completely smooth and thin-haired, white in color with black and gray flecks. In front of the dresser missing nearly all its drawers, courtesy of a panicked Smokescreen, was a deep depression. Not noticeable unless one was actually looking at it long enough, but there nonetheless.

_No slag_. Jazz reprimanded himself. Of course in front of the chest of drawers would be a high traffic area! It was used to store everything!

Unable to let a little thing slide, though, Jazz knelt and started removing the extra drawers. Naturally, he started with the very bottom one. He went to toss it aside, as it was empty, but stopped. It was a bit heavy for only a drawer. He frowned and flipped it over. _Well, well, well_.

"Prowl?" Jazz called as he reached for the datapad carefully taped to the bottom.

Prowl's helm snapped up at his designation, but he didn't question Jazz. Instead, he scooted over to him.

"What is it?" Smokescreen asked, coming over himself.

"A journal." Prowl stated, starting to online it.

"Don't!" Smokescreen exclaimed. "It's private! How could you just go and read it."

"Get your shrinky scrap out of your head and think!" Prowl scolded back. "Why _wouldn't _you read it? Bluestreak could be planning a suicide for all you know- He isn't!" he quickly added when he saw Smokescreen's face contort in horror, "But he could be, and you would never knew because you would not read his diary."

"Prowl's gotta point." Jazz stated as he inclined his helm towards Smokescreen.

Smokescreen grumbled something about respecting other's privacy, but said nothing more. That was more than enough consent for Prowl, who fully pressed the 'ON' button. To his dismay, a password input onlined.

"What are Bluestreak's interests?" Prowl asked quickly. "Time is wasting."

Smokescreen shook his helm, willing himself to think. "Besides talking? I don't know, he doesn't really do a lot. He likes to read, maybe play a game with his friends...he isn't really obsessed with anything."

Prowl sighed, slumping a bit. His optics were shuttered, most likely tearing his mind palace apart searching for a clue, any insight at all, as to what it might be.

"Wait." Smokescreen interrupted, then hesitated slightly before continuing. "It's not really an obsession, but he likes to look at the old photo album-pads a lot. He'll sit there for joors."

"Finally." Prowl murmured. "You use your helm."

Smokescreen balled his fist and vented heavily as Prowl typed in a few glyphs.

"What'd ya type?" Jazz asked to try and defuse the situation between the two brothers. He and Prowl was definitely going to have _words_ when Bluestreak was safely back.

"Holm-S." Prowl replied matter-of-factly.

"Wha's tha'?" Jazz asked.

"Our dissention name." Smokescreen answered relaxing his fists.

A small light at the bottom of the pad turned green and access was admitted. Prowl skimmed quickly. There were multiple entries, each very long. Bluestreak seemed to have a thing for words. There were also a bunch of pictures scanned into it. Each one of them was of at least one Praxian.

The first was of a youngling of about twelve vorns, red and blue, holding a sparkling of black and white. It wasn't difficult to deduce that it was Smokescreen and Prowl. Jazz probably would have teased Prowl over the picture if the situation wasn't so dire.

The next showed the same red and blue youngling stacking blocks in front of a disinterested sparkling. The next showed that same, disinterested sparkling laughing gaily as his older brother dodged the falling blocks, even though that picture was a bit lopsided as whoever was scanning it at the time had jumped to the rescue and snapped it at the same time.

The next was a family portrait; Smokescreen looked almost ready for his adult frame and Prowl was well into his third frame, roughly six vorns. There were two adult Praxians in the background, one a femme of blue and black, and a mech of blue and white. Yet there was something _off_ with the picture. It seemed forced, somehow, like each person was unhappy despite outward smiles adorning their faces.

The next was a sparked femme, very round in the middle. The next showed the femme with a flatter belly, a very tired look on her face, dim optics, and a gray sparkling on her chassis.

"That is Bluestreak." Prowl found himself saying aloud as he flipped to the next. He had slowed down, taking in each picture.

The last picture contained only a single, gray Praxian of about five vorns in age. He sat on a couch in desperate need of vacuuming, beaming like a little beacon and flashing a cheesy smile at the holo-scanner.

Jazz smiled at the picture then frowned. "Why's 'e call '_Blue_streak' if he don' got no blue?" he asked.

"Jazz," Prowl sighed, "you used a double negative." He stated blandly, somehow still catching grammatical errors in speech even with his mind ruthlessly tearing apart any scrap of information concerning Bluestreak.

Jazz gave Prowl a flat stare and didn't even deem it worth an answer.

Smokescreen chuckled softly, longinly. "Because he'll talk a mile a minute. A Blue Streak."

Jazz nodded as he flashed Smokescreen a sympathetic smile. He turned his attention back to Prowl. "This give ya any insight at all, Prowl?"

Prowl's optics were closed again. "Each picture was from the scrapbook. He scanned them into his diary."

"Each one was of our family." Smokescreen added.

Prowl gave a quick nod. "Yes. But look here, there are a bunch of other scans here, but they are from the harbor. Ships and the like."

Smokescreen nodded, not really surprised. "He loved to go there. Talked about it a lot, too."

Prowl glared at Smokescreen. "You're an idiot." He said as he leapt to his pedes.

"Prowl!" Jazz scolded. "Again, it don'-"

"I know where Blue is."

"Where?" Smokescreen demanded, jumping up himself.

"No time, just follow." Prowl ordered, hurrying from the room and transforming once he was outside.

Jazz and Smokescreen followed, not a word said between any of them. Prowl zipped on ahead, taking every back road he knew until the rocky road they were on suddenly spread into an asphalt road, and they finally reached the harbor.

Without slowing down, Prowl transformed and continued on. He went to the very edge of the pier and then turned around again, heading for a rocky ravine blocked off by a picket fence.

"Blue?" Prowl called out, his voice close but not exactly similar to how Smokescreen had sounded earlier.

Smokescreen and Jazz finally caught up with him. Smokescreen looked around, then at Prowl He spoke lowly. "Prowl, I don't think Blue will be able to come out. On his own, anyway."

"No." Prowl replied, dodging his elder brother's well-meant grip easily. He called out again."Blue!"

"Prowl." Jazz started this time. "It's late. Le's head back ta Smokey's place, start over an' Ah'll get some back up from the Enforcers."

"No." Prowl snapped a bit harsher then he meant to. He walked away from the both of them. "Blue? Bluestreak!"

Smokescreen vented as he watched his younger brother. "Jazz. We'll follow your plan. Prowl will follow when…"

"P-Prowl?" a small, cracking voice echoed from all around. Smokescreen and Jazz both froze and listened.

"Blue." Prowl exclaimed in what could only be called a relieved vent.

Despite the echoes, Prowl seemed to know exactly where to head. He knelt down by the far end of the fencing, and was not surprise in the least when a small frame collided into his, sobbing as he clutched at the larger frame.

Prowl's doorwings dipped in relief as he put his arms around the youngling rather awkwardly. It appeared more like he was going through the motions of providing comfort to the youngling than any emotional display of relief, though Jazz could have sworn that he saw Prowl's doorwing's tremble once, faintly.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." the youngling repeated again and again as he continued to sob.

"Bluestreak! I was so worried." Smokescreen exclaimed as he knelt down to where Prowl had dropped to his knees.

Bluestreak cried all the harder, burying his face into Prowl's armor. It only made sense he would be more comfortable with the bot that had raised him through his earliest phases.

"Why?" Prowl asked calmly. "Why did you runaway?"

Jazz severely wanted to ask what Prowl meant, but found it best for him to remain silent. This wasn't the place or the time. However, Smokescreen asked for him.

"Run off?" Smokescreen parroted, a little shocked.

"I-I'm sorry." Bluestreak hitched. "I-I didn't want to, but I didn't know what to do."

"You could have talked." Smokescreen stated, stroking one of the youngling' doorwing's soothingly, still unsure of why the youngling would runaway.

"I didn't want to!" Bluestreak exclaimed through tears. "But there wasn't any other way to get Prowl back!"

Prowl's doorwings lowered a bit more. "Explain, please."

"I wanted to leave a note saying I was running away, but Smokey would know where to find me!" Bluestreak said, sniffling and snuggling into Prowl, who held onto him a bit more tightly than before. "And then he wouldn't have gotten you! The only way to get you was to make it seem like I was taken! I knew Smokey would go get you." He paused before adding softly, "I'm sorry."

"Why, though? Why did you want Prowl?" Smokescreen asked, sounding hurt. Had he done something wrong? He couldn't lose his youngest brother, too.

"You two never talk anymore. I see pictures of you together, but never _see _it. I don't want the both of you to fight anymore." Bluestreak cried.

"You want us...together?" Prowl asked with obvious distaste. Clearly Bluestreak did not understand the dynamics between the two older Praxians.

Bluestreak nodded. "All of us."

"Blue, if you ever want to just come and visit me, you have only to ask." Prowl stated. Just because Bluestreak would like to see them together didn't mean Prowl was willing to keep Smokescreen's company any more than he already did. Which was never.

"But I want you a_nd _Smokey." Bluestreak sniffed tiredly. It was very late, nearing sunrise, and he was cold, hungry, and exhausted.

"I'm sure we can work something out." Smokescreen promised, still petting Bluestreak's wings and glaring at Prowl at the same time, willing Prowl to keep quiet and for once consider someone else's feelings.

"Fine." Prowl muttered after he shared a look with Smokescreen. "The first thing we're doing, though, is giving you a spelling lesson."

"What?" Bluestreak asked, pulling himself from Prowl's chassis to look at him confused.

"You misspelled 'docks'." Prowl stated. Smokescreen rolled his optics and Jazz snorted.

"Did I?" Bluestreak sniffed. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right." Prowl said. He hid a smirk as Bluestreak tiredly rubbed his face and tried to hide a yawn. "We had best get back, though. You need rest and warmth before you catch a cold."

Jazz glanced at Bluestreak and only then noticed the poor youngling shivering.

Blue nodded. He was small for his age, and Prowl easily scooped him up.

"Wait." Bluestreak said. "Who's he?" he pointed directly at Jazz while he looked at Prowl.

"That is Jazz, my roommate." Prowl answered, holding the tired youngling. "And don't point at someone while they are standing before you."

"No prob. Pleased ta' meet ya." Jazz said, not knowing what else to say. "Ya, uh, gave us all quite a scare there." Jazz shrugged.

"'M sorry." Bluestreak mumbled again, burying himself deeper into Prowl's frame. Jazz secretly took a picture of the scene.

"It's all right, as long as you don't do it again." Smokescreen reassured Bluestreak. "Prowl, you want me to take him on the way home." Smokescreen asked as he held out his arms to take Bluestreak.

"I know how to care for him." Prowl stated, his voice sharp but low as Blue was half asleep already. "I can handle driving him back home."

Prowl went to transform around the youngling, only to have a hand stop him.

"Stay the night?" Smokescreen asked softly. "Please?"

Prowl narrowed his optics suspiciously at Smokescreen. "You only wish for help to clean up Bluestreak's room."

Smokescreen chuckled. "Maybe." He shrugged. "But I think Blue will appreciate it if you are there when he wakes up." He said. He knew that Prowl still held a grudge against him, but they had talked more in the past couple of joors than they had in vorns, and if he could enjoy that for a couple more, well, he was willing to live through the snarky comments.

Prowl looked down at the now sleeping form in his arms. "I'll stay, but Jazz will have to as well."

"Hey, Ah don' mind drivin…" Jazz started.

"Don't be silly." Smokescreen interrupted. Just what was it with that family and not letting Jazz finish a complete sentence? "It's much too late…"

"Early." Prowl corrected. Okay, so maybe it wasn't just him.

Smokescreen vented in frustration as he shot Prowl an annoyed look. "Just stay the night. Make it easier on all of us."

Jazz looked between the two brothers and nodded in agreement. "Okay, then." Someone had to keep the peace.

"Good. Now if you are done can we go?" Prowl asked."Blue is a bit heavier than I remember."

"Yes." Smokescreen rolled his optics, transforming. It was worth it, he reminded himself.

Prowl and Jazz followed suit, Prowl being very careful as he transformed around the youngling. They headed back to the cottage just as the first rays of the new orn started to rise.

* * *

"You know..." Prowl started after coming out of another trance as they strolled back to their apartment. It was late afternoon and the afternoon sun beat lazily down on them.

"Yeah?" Jazz prompted in a lazy voice when Prowl didn't continue.

"You showed some skill in deduction back there." Prowl stated as he clasped his hands behind his back.

Jazz cast Prowl a sidelong glance. "Thanks." he smirked proudly. "Well, somebot had ta be in his right mind while ya were all freaked out."

"I was not 'freaked out' as you put it, and we will get off subject if I start arguing-"

"Then don't." Jazz shot back.

"Stop interrupting." Prowl grumbled.

"Meh? Ah interrupt?" Jazz asked incredulously. "Ya look in the mirror, lately?"

"You're doing it again, Jazz. Really, I can never get a word in edgewise!" Prowl stated. "What I am trying to say is," Prowl fidgeted then sucked in a deep vent of air, "Have you ever thought of being more than just my assistant?"

Jazz paused, whatever on his mind fleeing away in an instant. "Like wha'?"

"My apprentice." Prowl replied as he stopped as well. "You are not entirely stupid, and you show great beginnings in the powers of observation and deduction. You also can keep a rather level head and...while I hate to admit it, have better people skills than I."

Jazz snorted. It wasn't the most flattering words he had ever heard, but…"Ah'm gonna take tha' as a compliment." He said as he resumed walking.

"You should." Prowl said with a nod as he also started walking. They both fell into companionable silence.

Jazz hummed in thought. "Would Ah have'ta quit bein' an Enforcer?"

Prowl scrunched his face a moment before shaking his helm. "No. You have a title and connections that could be useful in the future."

"Ah guess it wouldn' hurt." Jazz said slowly.

"So you agree?" Prowl asked, doorwings perking up just a bit.

"Yeah, why not?" Jazz nodded and gave a half-shrug. "Ah agree."

Prowl looked pleased as he stopped again. He held out his hand. "I guess we should shake on it."

Jazz smiled and clasped Prowl's hand without a word, giving it a good, strong shake, making it official. "Now, when do ya plan on gettin' together with yer bros?" Jazz said as he continued to hold onto Prowl's hand.

Prowl tried to draw his hand back and frowned disapprovingly at Jazz. "Jazz, I already discussed this with-"

"Ah know." He stated and continued to look expectantly at Prowl.

"You're interrupting again." Prowl warned as he jerked his hand to try and regain custody of what was rightfully _his_ appendix.

Jazz narrowed his optics. "But Ah jus, wanted ta know so tha' Ah can make sure _you _go."

"I will." Prowl huffed, giving up on regaining his hand's freedom.

"Ah don' think ya will." Jazz returned, still gripping Prowl's hand.

"I'll prove it to you! We will go on the weekend. We will meet them at the Square. What time, exactly, I will confirm. Are you happy now?" Prowl sighed in exasperation.

"Blissfully." Jazz flashed him Cheshire grin, releasing Prowl's hand as he turned towards the apartment.

* * *

Author's Note- Thank you to my few reviews, again. You are my inspiration to keep writting! A bit more into Prowl, but not really explaining Prowl's own past. Also a MAJOr 'Thank you so very very very much' to my beta **Nikkie2010**! I cannot believe what you did with this chapter! You took my garbage and transformed (pun intended) it into EXACTLY what I had in my mind! I struggle with spelling AND body language... (I'm a big talker, so...) I picture the body language in my head when writing, just can't get it into the story. I'm stunned. :D

Jazz is now more then a roommate and assitant! Will he be something more? No idea yet! *snickers* You're just as in the dark as I am! Also, a desention name is basically just a last name.

There are a few reviews I would like to address

Bluebird Soaring (chapter1)- Thank you for telling me that! I cannot wait for the BBC Sherlock to resume! It seems that all the good shows/movies end with his death/suicide and then show him and then end! *Charlie Brown 'Arrrrruuuugghghh!'

MONTSTAT (chapter 1)- Thank you for giving me a chance and pointing those mistakes out to me! Spell check only catches so much... (you should see just how much I spell wrong!) I do try to read this to myself before posting, but my write times are late as are my posting times! (I know, excuses excuses)

Autobot Slipstream (chapter 3)- Don' ya go glitchen' on meh! ONly Prowler an meh's allowed ta do tha'! Ah swear Ah'll get Jazz to beat some sense into ya...or maybe he'll just frag you senseless *squeals and runs away like a schoolfemme* Yes, yes. Prowl said 'overrated'. Sherlock is a rather immature character (both books, shows, and movies) so I though 'Pit, why not make Prowl immature too?'

kyleisdabest (chapter 3)- Hahaha. Took me a second to get your username! Neat! I think I'm glad that this is so easy to personify...just not sure about the attacking and 'doing it' part. *shrugs* Just meh, don' take it ta heart. ;)

MoonWalker (chapter 4)- Girl (or boy!), you are the reviewer that keeps me going! I love it when you review! I'm always looking for your posts :D I like your idea about the obvious murder, just not sure if Transformers have 'noses'! And, don't worry, Jazz'll get very snoopy and dig into Prowl's past more then Prowl will like! (Oh, how much Prowl will HATE it!)

Bossbot97 (chapter 4)- Good eye, Tuck! (Sorry, little ones are watching WonderPets again...) I wonder if you're the only one who caught the Big Bang Theory reference...love that show. I seem to have a thing for skinny, pale, nerdy guys who need lives and some happy pills ;P

Angel Heart (chapter 4)- Guess Boss wasn't the only one! Thank you so much for the constructive criticism. I see your point, and will do my best to give better cliffy's and descriptions!


	6. Chapter 6 Discoveries

**Chapter 6 Discoveries or Intermission**

* * *

Jazz never understood why Prowl had such a hard time with keeping roommates. He had his quirks, more than most bots, but they were manageable, well that is, once you figured out how to manage them.

Besides his habits and rather demanding way of things, he could not seem to find the meaning of 'please' or 'thank you', even with such a broad vocabulary. He was also rather quiet. His main activity was thinking, and that was for the most part a silent act.

There were other times, though, when Jazz wished he could join the list of lost roomies Prowl had. Like now, for example.

Prowl lay sprawled like a youngling on the sofa, face first. His doorwings stuck straight up into the air, and he moaned dramatically.

"Prowl-" Jazz started in a warning tone as he read the latest news on his datapad.

"I'm so _bored_." Prowl interrupted, lifting his helm enough to be heard clearly and motioning at nothing with his hand. "Not even a cold case!"

"Come on." Jazz vented, starting to get bored himself of Prowl's whining. _Irritated _fit better, though. "There's gotta be somethin' ya can do. Watch something on the holo-vid, maybe?"

Prowl scowled at Jazz, causing the mech to freeze for a klik. "And fill my processor with mindless garbage?" he asked at last with an indignant huff and overly-dramatic flop of his frame

"Then read a data-pad." Jazz suggested with a sweeping gesture towards a large shelf, chuck-full of books and data-pads.

Prowl groaned dramatically, dropping his face back into the pillow. "I've read all of them." came the muffled reply.

Jazz was about ready to slap him. "Then go to the library."

"Don't want to." again, muffled. He lifted his helm up and sat forward, only to flop unceremoniously back onto the sofa. "Don't want to go out."

"A walk?" Jazz asked, running out of ideas.

"What part of 'don't want to go out' do you not understand?" Prowl grumbled, lifting his helm to give Jazz a quizzical look. "I can give it to you in as many languages as you like."

"Silence, then." Jazz suggested. "Ah like the way ya soun' when ya' talk in Silence."

"Silence isn't a language." Prowl stated sullenly. He sat up, faster than a gun going off and looking a bit too much like a youngling as his optics widened as a sudden idea hit him. "Jazz?"

"No. Ah suggested some stuff now ya gotta figure it out yourself." Jazz said firmly, taking up the remote. "Ah know wha' Ah'm gonna do."

Prowl frowned deeply, creases forming on his forehelm. "You will never prosper as a detective, Jazz, if you continue to fill your processor with television."

"Hey! Ah only kick back once in a while wi' it." Jazz said, throwing his hands in the air defensively, still holding the remote. "It's not like Ah'm addicted."

"Really?" Prowl asked with a quirked optic ridge. "So it would be no problem for you to shut of the holo-vid right now?"

Jazz snorted. "Easy."

"Then do so."

Jazz scowled, staring at the Praxian who sat Indian-style and watched him just as intensely. _Fragin' aft-hole._With a click, the holo-vid shut off once again. "Happy? Now, wha' is it tha' you wanna do?"

A haughty smile crossed Prowl's faceplates. "See how clear your processor is now that the retard box is off?"

Jazz's visor flashed. He lifted the remote, and Prowl's doorwings lifted in the same motion. Jazz lowered, and Prowl's wings followed suit.

"Now, are ya gonna answer meh?" Jazz asked, drumming a finger in the arm of his chair.

"Do you want to play a game?" Prowl asked quickly, excitement dancing through his optics.

Jazz froze. He looked at Prowl, looking for some sign that maybe the mech had miraculously received a sense of humor. Instead, he was met only with the same serious face plates he saw every time he looked, only now there was serious boredom marring those plates.

"Yer kiddin', righ'?" Jazz asked hopefully.

"I don't kid, Jazz." Prowl said seriously, his helm tilting back just a bit.

Jazz sunk back, defeated. "Wha' game do ya have in mind?"

"I was thinking of something to test my mind." Prowl stated, shifting to get comfortable.

Jazz motioned for more information, his own face showing his boredom.

"You will name a bot, and I will give as many features about them as I can." Prowl explained eagerly.

Jazz vented. "Ah'll humor ya. How 'bout..." Jazz stopped. He paused for a bit before asking "Who do ya know?"

Prowl looked a bit taken back at the question. "I know plenty. Besides you and my brothers, there are those at the station, and the criminals I track and-"

"No." Jazz interrupted. "'Sides me an' yer bros, who do ya _know_?"

Prowl looked to be in deep thought for a second. A single bot entered his mind, one that he had tried to delete unsuccessfully from his processor many times. He huffed and rose to his pedes without a word.

"Where ya goin'?" Jazz asked, turning in his seat as Prowl headed for the hall. "Ah thought we were playin' a game."

Prowl didn't answer, once again in his trance as he disappeared into his bedroom. Jazz was a bit surprised that he didn't go into his 'office', but shrugged it off. The office was for when he was on a case. Whatever was on his mind must not be that important.

* * *

Where was it?

Prowl ransacked his mind palace, tearing it apart in his mental search of his room. He certainly wasn't going to destroy his room in his search as his mind palace was much easier to clean. He put up another firewall as that image popped up in his helm again. He continued his search with renewed vigor.

_Hidden in plain sight._He reminded himself as he went over to the desk and opened the drawer. Right on top was a small box of stainless steel. Lifting it up, he set it on the berth with a material 'thud' and a slight tinkling clink.

He took exactly five steps to another bookshelf, and pulled down a bound book made of paper and organic material. Opening it to the middle page, he reached into the cut out, square incision and took out a three pronged, electro-magnetic key.

Returning to the box, he slid the key into the keyhole, and activated the magnet. The top sprang open like it had been under great pressure. He reached in with his slender digits, and pulled its contents out.

_Too long ._He thought, preparing for-_No! _How could he? He hadn't done it in groons. All right, a quartex. His processor was reeling. He hesitated. He'd promised so long ago that he wouldn't'- No. The _bot _he had promised was gone.

Without a second though, he made the plunge.

* * *

Jazz had to admit, something was wrong. Majorly wrong to the tenth degree. It hadn't even been ten breems until Prowl exited his room and stated loudly that he was going for a walk.

"Ah thought ya didn' wanna go out." Jazz pointed out, just about barring the doorway.

Prowl shrugged. "I've suddenly unlocked a burst of energy. No point sulking around here, anyways. The fresh air will do me good." With that, the Praxian pushed past Jazz and out into the communal hall.

Jazz watched him warily from the windows as Prowl not only set off for a walk, he set off at a _run_. Not the kind of run that one did when in a rush, but a leisure run used for exercise.

_Since when does Prowl exercise?_

Shaking his helm, he sat back down to watch some television. In the back of his helm, though, all he could hear was Prowl reprimanding him for doing so.

"Slag you." Jazz mumbled as we switched it back off. He drummed his digits on his seat, glancing about for something to do. He looked at the bookshelf. Nah. He looked towards the window. Maybe he could go for a walk as well.

That was a big 'No'. Prowl had already left, and rather quickly at that, so there was no chance of him catching up.

Maybe he could find something around the house to do. Hefting himself to his pedes, he headed towards the hall. Like every time he was alone at the apartment, he paused and looked towards the forbidden room. Prowl's office.

And, like every other time, he decided against it and instead headed to his own room. Maybe he could entertain himself by deciding whether or not to read those letters he took.

Except he never made it to his room. Prowl, who had never done so before, had left his door open in his haste to get outside. A deep and moral conflict began to swirl deep within Jazz as his curiosity reared its ugly head. To go in, or not to go in, that was the question.

"A quick peek wouldn' hurt." Jazz murmured as he slipped in.

He shuttered his optics the moment he crossed the threshold. His visor went gray, like he was expecting some major apocalyptic catastrophe to occur since he passed the doorway. His visor lit up slightly after another klik passed. He was still intact.

_Onward!_

Now, to practice his skills of 'deducting'. First, notice the obvious. Well, the room was pretty stereotypical. A desk with a chair, specially made to support a Praxian's doorwings. It was rather bare of all knickknacks and personal items, except for three holo-cubes that were lined up neatly on a shelf and all offlined. There was also a berth, neatly made and-

"Hello." Jazz murmured as he closed in on it. "Whadd'we have 'ere?"

A box, with the key still in the lock yet unopened, sat in the middle of the berth. It w_as locked_, though, so it must be something private. He should get permission first.

"Hey, Prowl?" Jazz called out to nothing. "Mind if Ah take a peek?" there was no reply, obviously. "Well, ya didn' say 'no'."

Activating the magnet, the internal locking bar slid aside and the box sprang open. Jazz was not ready for what his optics saw. As an Enforcer, he'd seen these kind of things many times before.

"Prowl." Jazz said aloud, his voice deadly and dripping with venom. "You an' meh? We're gonna have a li'l' talk when ya get back."

* * *

Jazz was ready and waiting when Prowl finally dragged himself back to the flat. The mech looked drained, all of that pep he had suddenly gained sucked right out of him. His doorwings were low, and he looked utterly worn.

"Took ya awhile." Jazz stated calmly from his seat, muting the holo-vid.

"I went out farther then I intended." Prowl returned just as coolly. "Didn't I say the television was bad for you and your processor?"

"Ah can think of worse things." Jazz stated, a bit snappish, his optics never leaving the batter-ball game he had muted still.

Prowl eyed him warily as he headed to his room. It had occurred to him, once he was at least six astro-miles out of Iacon, that he had left something potentially dangerous to his and Jazz's relationship on his berth. Jazz respected his privacy, though, so he was in the clear.

"Aren't ya gonna fuel?" Jazz asked, still watching the television. "Ya look pretty beat."

Prowl shook his helm, refraining from rolling his optics. "You know I don't need to refuel as often as you do, Jazz. I will be in my ro-"

"Why?" Jazz asked, turning at last. "Somethin' important in there?" he asked sharply.

"That depends." Prowl's optics narrowed to mirror the dip in his voice, opposite to his doorwings that were picking up. "Are you implying something?"

Jazz rose as Prowl's spark sank lower than the floor. Prowl regained himself, though, straightening up and growling when he caught sight of Jazz's hands.

"You were in my room!" Prowl accused sharply, turning as Jazz strode past him for the kitchen.

"Good thing, too." Jazz returned, placing the metal box, sealed tight, on the counter. He started the magnet, the box springing open to reveal its contents of needles and a white liquid neatly bottled up or already in a syringe.

Prowl _snarled_. "You do not understand, nor will it ever be explained."

"Ah might not know now jus' what yer' excuse is, but Ah do understand what all this is." Jazz stated, motioning towards the box. "Ya have righ' now ta tell meh a good excuse."

"You would not believe any excuse I could offer." Prowl said, in a near submissive tone, completely opposite to his frame language.

"Then try the truth." Jazz pleaded, helm held low.

"Jazz, I-" Prowl stopped. Even the truth sounded like an excuse in his helm.

"Damn it, Prowl." Jazz vented sharply. "Why?"

Prowl's mouth disappeared into a thin line. He straightened, and remained indignantly silent.

"Prowl, ya better start talkin'. Now." Jazz demanded, threateningly shaking his helm as Prowl remained stubbornly quiet. "Prowl, so help meh, Ah'll-"

"You'll do what? Yes, I take Quantum. That is all you need to know." Prowl burst out, doorwings springing up much like the box.

"Ah need ta know _why _so that Ah can _fix _it." Jazz said, grabbing Prowl's servo as the doorwinger turned away. "Don' ya dare. Stay put an' ya better fraggin' _listen_. Prowl, Ah've seen stronger bots killed on this stuff."

"They were ordinary bots, Jazz." Prowl shrugged indifferently. "And there is nothing you can do to fix this. It is what it-"

"Don' even think 'bout finishin' tha'." Jazz growled, visor deepening to a dark blue. "This can be fixed, ya jus' gotta lemme help ya'-"

"I do not need _help_." Prowl said firmly, bristling at the suggestion.

"Ya obviously fraggin' do if yer on _Quantum_." Jazz exclaimed. He grabbed up a filled syringe. "Jus where did ya' get this stuff? Ah'd know if ya were makin' it."

"Would you, now?" Prowl chuckled. "Possible, Enforcer and all. No, no. Don't worry, I'm not." he added quickly after a look from Jazz.

"An' how am I supposed ta believe ya?" Jazz asked, shaking the syringe.

Prowl scowled, his optics becoming narrow slits. "I have never lied, Jazz. An addict- Yes, I'll admit it- but never a _liar_."

"Ya never told meh about this." Jazz stated, still using the syringe to emphasize his point.

"You never asked." Prowl shrugged. "And, in answer to your question, it is quite easy to find a dealer in Iacon. A good deal is even easier, if you can dig up enough dirt on the dealer."

Jazz shook his helm, laying the syringe on the counter. "How long, Prowl? How long have ya been on this?"

"That depends."

"On?"

Prowl vented. "This is not a discussion I wish to enter."

"Oh, we're way passed 'entered'." Jazz stated sharply. "Now, _answers_."

Prowl shrugged. "A few vorns, bu-"

"Vorns?" Jazz exclaimed, clasping his hands to the sides of his helm as he shook it in realization. "Prowl, yer lucky ya ain't offlined righ' now."

"I use it mainly for recreational purposes. When I'm bored or simply need a boost." Prowl said nonchalantly, still oblivious- or simply indifferent- to the danger he was putting himself in.

Jazz vented, helm lowered, hands limp at his sides. "Bored? An' wadd'ya mean by 'mainly'."

Prowl tensed again, doorwings held defensively. "You have all the information that you need, Jazz."

"No, Ah-"

"Yes, you _do_." Prowl said in such a tone that Jazz decided against continuing.

Jazz continued on, but on a slightly different subject. "Whad d'we do now, Prowl?"

"You hand me back my belongings, and we-"

"Prowl, ya know why Ah can't do tha'." Jazz interrupted, placing a hand in front of the box before Prowl could reclaim it.

"Then what do you suggest?" Prowl asked in a tone that suggested Jazz choose his words wisely.

"Ah'm gonna help ya through this." Jazz promised, gently yet firmly, enough so that Prowl's doorwings lowered submissively.

* * *

The first few orns were rather easy. Easy, only in the sense that Prowl wasn't yet feeling the full effects of withdrawal.

Jazz had called the station, saying only that he and Prowl both needed some time off. Prowl had fought him denta and claw, but in the end Jazz had won out. The next step was for Prowl to hand over all of his drugs.

Jazz looked over the table, too many needles and liquid death waiting there for him to destroy. He shook his helm.

"This ain't all of it." Jazz said, looking at the Praxian's chassis. "Don' make this harder than it needs ta be." he added lowly.

Prowl grumbled, but surprised Jazz by plopping himself down on the floor, and sliding his subspace open. He scowled openly as Jazz reached in, but kept himself from squirming beneath the invasive approach.

Jazz fished in and remove three needles, one empty from a past usage and the other two still full. He went in again, pulling out the crystal he had seen Prowl dig up at the Crystal City.

"I'll be taking that." Prowl growled, snatching the crystal away and hiding it in his hand.

"Tha' all of it?" Jazz asked, his visor starring into Prowl's optics, daring the Praxian to try and hide anything.

Prowl gave a nod without hesitation, and met the stare confidently. "All that I had of it is in your possession now."

"Good." Jazz said, tossing all of it into the bin with one sweep. Prowl didn't even flinch at the grinding noise from within, the sound of glass crushing and smashing as his Quantum was literally destroyed.

The next few orns were the Pit, in Prowl's point of view. He felt as if he were under house arrest. He glowered when Jazz followed him into his room, standing by the door as he fetched a data-pad on a case he was supposed to be working on. He glared at the Polyhexian when Jazz denied him access to the outside world, alone anyways. He had to be accompanied down to the news-pad stand when he picked up extra pads from other towns.

He stared at Jazz wide opticed on the fourth day of withdrawal. Jazz braced himself, and continued on sweeping, watching the dirt pile up beneath his broom. Prowl's optics followed him, barely-there vibrations in his doorwings as his processor fought with his logic centre over what he wanted and what was the most likely situation.

"Jazz." Prowl started, making Jazz freeze for a split klik. His voice was so low. "Please."

Jazz shook his helm, continuing. "Sorry, mech. You'll thank meh some-orn."

"Please, one wouldn't hurt. I've used it so long that I've built up an immunity to it." Prowl stated, his excuse sounding weak even to him as it passed over his glossa. "One wouldn't hurt me, only calm my mind."

Jazz hung his helm, not able to look at Prowl's face. "Ah can't. Ya know as well as Ah that nobot can build up immunity to tha' drug."

In that klik, Prowl decided that the polite way was not going to work. "Jazz, give me a fraggin' dose now! I know what I can handle! It is _my _frame!"

"An yer killin' it." Jazz returned calmly, expecting the outburst at some point. _Don't get angry. He can't control it right now._He reminded himself again and again to squash the rising anger in him.

Prowl's hands balled into fists, the tips of his digits digging into his palm. "You do not understand what you say._You _don't deal with the noise and the sights of everything._You _don't struggle every klik with the irreversible!"

"Prowl-"

"Will you shut that window or tell that femme to shut up!" Prowl exclaimed quite suddenly, pinching his olfactory sensor. Instead of waiting for Jazz to carry out his order, he stormed over to the window himself. "Hey! Yes, you on the comm.! He isn't coming back, he is with the waitress on 56th! Now, mute it!" with that, he slammed the window shut and locked it.

Jazz gave Prowl a very quizzical look, quirking an optic ridge. "This part o' tha' thing Ah don' understand?" he asked, motioning at himself and then Prowl in rapid succession.

"I hear e_verything_." Prowl said in a near whisper, not a tendon in his frame moving in his tenseness. "I see e_verything_. Everything and anything within my line of sight or hearing. My processor instantly begins to solve the situation, no matter what it is."

"Part of the reason you're cravin' _it _right now?" Jazz asked, careful not to name the drug for fear of causing another outburst. "It helped ya cool yer mind."

"Partially." Prowl nearly growled, his frame wanting the Quantum more and more by the klik. He felt as if he were two souls in one body, fighting each other with what he knew he _needed _and what he _wanted_.

Jazz just nodded, giving Prowl only half of his attention. "Why don' ya go read a book or somethin'? Take yer mind off everthin' tha' way."

Prowl made a dismissive noise. "I'll be in my room." he mumbled, sounding so tired all of a sudden.

Jazz looked towards the Praxian warningly. He didn't follow this time, though, giving Prowl some space to cool down. Soon, the continuous sound of a violin string being plucked floated to Jazz's audios, letting the Polyhexian know that Prowl had found a way to soothe his nerves, at least for the moment.

* * *

Jazz vented as he knocked at Prowl's door a third time.

"Hey, open up. Ya've locked yourself away for more than three joors, now." Jazz called out.

No answer except for the constant sound of the violin being plucked again and again. The same note, the same rhythm. One, one, one, one. One, one, one, one. Repeat. It was starting to get on his nerves.

"Prowl, Ah'm not gonna call ya again." Jazz called._Primus, Ah sound like his fraggin' carrier._

He paused just before he went to knock again. The violin had stopped for just a klik.

"It's not locked." came the Praxian's voice, low, mumbled, and downright miserable.

Jazz keyed in an open command just as the violin resumed once again. When the door finally opened, it showed the large doorwinger on his berth, one leg bent and up with his other pede crossed over it. He lay on his back, the violin held close to his face as he plucked a staccato rythm, plucking the same string again and again and again, right by the tuning pegs.

"Repetitive." Prowl began, optics closed as they had been. "I can focus on it, it will never change unless I stop plucking or slow down. I can depend on it."

Jazz nodded silently. "How ya doin'?" he asked lowly, careful not to be too invasive and pushy. Prowl hated that when he was completely in control, he did not want to see what Prowl did when he wasn't.

_Ting. Ting. Ting. Ting,_answered the violin.

Jazz rubbed the back of his helm a bit. "Prowl?"

_Ting. Ting. Ting._

The Praxian was not going to answer. His ventilations were smooth and even, controlled. His optics were shuttered, and only his digit moved. His lips were pressed together firmly, and he looked like the embodiment of Stillness itself.

_Ah see_. Jazz nodded his helm, and left for a moment. Prowl didn't even need to open his optics to know what the clatter and crinkling of thin plastic was.

"Remove it." Prowl ordered tightly.

"Nuh-uh. Yer frame's gonna start purgin' itself of the poison you've been pumpin' it with." Jazz stated, still calm and keeping his voice low.

"And by 'purgin', I take that you mean that literally." Prowl replied slowly, his digit still continuing that steady motion and sound.

"Partially." Jazz replied. "It's one o' the ways."

Prowl gave a quick nod, optics still shuttered. _Ting. Ting. Ting._"I am in control of my frame, Jazz. The high sound from the violin tricks my processor into focusing only on it. The motion of my digit is quite habitual now. I am controlling my vents, and my optics are closed to motion and distraction. I am in control."

"Are ya sayin' tha' ta try an' make yerself believe it?" Jazz asked, his tone slightly reprimanding. He noticed a gleam about Prowl that wasn't from wax.

"It is all part of the process, Jazz. You bringing in a bin is opening me up to weakness, letting my processor know that there is something for me to use, no matter what I tell it." Prowl stated, venting slowly as his doorwings shuddered a second. "Processor over matter. My will over my frame."

Jazz nodded with a hum. "Ah'll be in the livin' room. Tell meh how tha' works out for ya later, 'kay?"

Prowl gave a sharp nod, and listened as the door closed. He lifted his helm to make sure Jazz had left, only to catch sight of the waste bin.

"Jazz, you-" he started to call, only to snap his mouth shut and swallow hard.

The violin stopped, still vibrating out its last note before melting away. Prowl shuttered his optics and lay back, ventilating deeply. Slowly, very slowly, he began again.

_Ting...Ting...Ting...Ting. Ting. Ting._

* * *

Jazz had waited on the other side of the door, not finding it in him to just up and leave Prowl alone. He shuttered his optics as he pressed his spinal struts into the smooth, cool wall.

The muffled sounds of the violin continued strongly for about five breems. Jazz was about to call it quits and retire to the living room for now, when the violin began to sputter and taper off. A sporadic call began to rise up from it, reminding Jazz of how Prowl must have been feeling on the inside.

_Ting. Ting. Ting...Ting-ting…Ting. Ting. Ting...Ting..._

And then silence. Silence, meaning only that Prowl wasn't playing the instrument anymore. Instead of a persistent 'twang' of the strings, a thud like a drum, followed by a distorted screech as what could only be the violin as it fell to the floor.

Jazz quickly punched in the open code only to find Prowl in the same position he had left him in. The only differences were that the violin was on the floor, and Prowl was venting much faster than before. He was slowly losing the careful control he had over himself, and his spark began to beat faster at that realization.

Striding the four steps to the berth, it was too obvious to see the tremble slowly evolving into heavy shaking in Prowl's limbs, especially around his pedes. He swallowed hard, fighting every step of withdrawal with a weakening strength.

"Prowl, ya gotta get the poison outta ya some way." Jazz stated, taking a seat on the edge of the berth and placing a hand on Prowl's jittery knee. It was clammy with condensation, Prowl's frame secreting the drug from his frame one way or another. It was giving Prowl a sickly, unnatural shine.

Prowl remained silent, keeping his mouth pressed in a firm, thin line.

_Processor over matter_. He reminded himself.

There was nothing in this room to weaken him. Jazz was not there, telling him that he should stop fighting it. There was no bin in the room. He still had his violin and he was still pluck-well, his digit was still moving. His tank was not rolling like a Seeker in a flying show. His helm was not pounding like a drum. He was not lurching over the berth, reaching for the bin.

Curse this to the Pit. Damn the inventor of Quantum to eighty dark vorns. Curse _that _mech for what he did to him.

"It'll be all righ'." Jazz promised as Prowl set the bin back down, gasping a bit as he lay back down. "Go ta sleep, 'kay? You'll feel better when ya wake up."

* * *

Jazz had deemed it fit and appropriate to move into Prowl's room. Just for the duration of withdrawal, anyways. Prowl was beginning to enter the stage where fits and delirium were commonplace, and could seriously hurt himself in a fit of panic or fury if left alone.

So, here he lay on top of multiple warming blankets in the corner of Prowl's room.

_Did I get everythin' out? _He asked himself again. After Prowl had passed out in a fitful recharge, he had gone over the entire room, removing anything potentially dangerous from the room. At first, he was only expecting a few things. But when an assortment of blades ranging from a lock-pick to a machete thicker than his servo, he started to get worried. A few blasters, acid pellet, stun gun, Tasers, the like, soon joined the blades on the kitchen counter.

He had contemplated just strapping Prowl to his berth. It would have been easier then removing the hazards, yet he had to admit, after carefully going over the situation, that it wouldn't have worked.

He vented, exhausted. He was so ready for recharge right now that he could actually taste it. It tasted sleepy, and sounded like Prowl shouting.

Jazz snapped forward, onlining his optics quickly. His visor cast a band of blue light throughout the room, like a dim night-light. He rose quickly, scurrying over to Prowl's berthside.

The Praxian was dreaming. He muttered and moaned in sleep, mouth moving in words that mirrored something in his subconscious. His servos spasmed in movements Jazz could only hope looked more graceful in the other's helm.

"I-..." Prowl murmured, tossing about. His doorwings hit the wall, causing even Jazz to flinch. Prowl snapped forward with a start, shouting a name. "Iris!"

"Hey, hey..." Jazz soothed, speaking gently and somewhat groggily as he was ready to topple over. "Jus' a dream cycle, kay? Go back ta 'charge an' lemme get some too."

Prowl, as well as Primus, had other ideas. A single look into Prowl's sunken, dim optics let Jazz know that the Praxian wasn't fully there. The doorwinger swung his helm back and forth in search of some object that he must have seen in his sleep.

"Kill him." Prowl mumbled, his chassis beginning to heave with heavy vents. "I'll kill him."

"Hope yer not talkin' 'bout meh." Jazz stated, tensing a bit in case Prowl bolted. "Jus' lay on back down. Ah'm tired, Ah _know _yer tired. Jus' go back'ta 'charge an' well both be happy."

A feral growl escaped Prowl's vocalizer as he rolled over and grabbed at the table, where a small blade had once lain. Jazz was thankful he had removed all of them, and quickly went to push Prowl back.

"Hey, nothin's here, 'kay? Lie on back an' get some sleep." Jazz coaxed.

Prowl jerked, freeing himself from Jazz's grip and launched himself from the berth. His optics glowed bright despite their unnatural haze, and burned with an anger Jazz had never seen before. Much to Prowl's dismay, he found his pedes too weak to support himself, and he crumbled to the ground with a shout of surprise.

Jazz flinched at the resounding thud Prowl made when he hit the hard floor. He couldn't have tried to stop him, though, as Prowl's momentum in his descent would have only brought him down as well. He knelt down now, though, a hand between the other's doorwings and the other holding him up.

"I'll kill him!" he shouted, struggling to rise and fighting Jazz's grip. He looked about for whoever had brought him down, and lay optics only on Jazz. Black and white frame, blue visor- wait, his attacker didn't have a visor.

Jazz pinned Prowl as the Praxian fought him harder, trying to scramble to his pedes.

"Easy!" Jazz shouted. This was not good. As Prowl continued to struggle, he found himself straddling the other's chassis, pinning his servos over his helm.

"Let me go!" Prowl spat out in pure hatred. "I'll kill him. Kill him!"

"Who?" Jazz asked, his voice raised to snap Prowl from his delirium. "Who's wronged ya? Nobot, so-"

"Iris!" Prowl shouted, trying to turn to his side as his optics caught something.

His struggling became less angry and more frantic as his optics darted beneath the berth. He flicked his wrist in such a way that Jazz lost grip on it, and Prowl darted from beneath him. Instead of bolting, as Jazz had readied himself to deal with, he sprawled on his stomach and reached beneath the berth.

Jazz let him, having cleared all weapons out of there earlier. Unless there was a secret compartment that Prowl had somehow remembered in his delirium, Jazz had nothing to worry about.

He was a bit surprised, and his curiosity heightened as Prowl pulled out that crystal once again. Deep purple in shade, black near the top, brilliant yellow at the very tip. Prowl held it close, pinning it to his chassis and then pressing it to his lips. He seemed to be calmed, now, so Jazz risked releasing him and hefting him to his pedes.

"Take some o' yer own wieght, there." Jazz grumbled. "Yer heavy."

Prowl flopped unceremoniously onto the berth, wings to Jazz as he faced the wall. The yellow tip of the crystal was pressed to his closed mouth as he wrapped both hands around it and shuttered his optics. Jazz vented out tiredly, and crossed back over to his makeshift berth.

He could only hope the rest of the night didn't continue in this fashion.

* * *

Primus hated him. Prowl had gone in and out of raging fits and panic all throughout the night and well into the next orn until he finally collapsed into recharge, his processor no longer able to take the strain of both dealing with the drug and keeping his frame awake.

He was out for a total of three orns. Jazz, who had kept a diligent vigil over the mech, had been surprised when those hazy, blue optics lit up without warning. While tired and dim, he seemed all there. Maybe he really did have a higher tolerance to drugs then Jazz had given him credit for.

A soft vent pulled Jazz from his thoughts and back to the bot.

"Hey, how ya feelin'?" Jazz asked, watching as the other slowly sat up and pressed his back into the headboard.

Prowl didn't answer. Instead he vented out tired, letting his frame sag a bit. Jazz chuckled.

"Ah can see why ya'd be tired." Jazz stated, his optics resting on a full cube on the nightstand. "Want some 'gon?"

Prowl shook his helm, lowering it to his chassis and venting out shakily again. He still felt a bit queasy. He shifted when something sharp poked him in the pede. He reached under the blankets, and pulled out a purple piece of a shattered crystal.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice so low that Jazz could barely hear it let alone detect the tremble and hitch.

"Ya got angry and started havin' a fit." Jazz stated. "The only thing ya had in yer hands was the crystal- which ya wouldn' let go of. Ya crushed it." he looked apologetic. "Ah thought Ah'd cleaned it all up."

"You threw it away." Prowl stated instead of asked.

Jazz gave a nod. Prowl's helm sunk lower, and his digits pressed the crystal fragment into his palm.

"Want meh ta toss tha' piece, too?" Jazz asked helpfully.

Prowl shook his helm quickly. "No. It sounds silly, but I'd have rather you hadn't throw it out."

"Ah'm sorry. Ah didn'-"

"No." Prowl stopped him, raising his hand. "You had no way of knowing." he shook his helm. "I can make do."

Jazz shrugged a bit. "Ah'll righ'. Ah have'ta admit, ya got through tha' pretty quick."

"I told you I wasn't that bad." Prowl mumbled, slipping back down to go back to recharge.

Jazz fell silent as Prowl's optics shuttered, and his frame went lax. At least the first part was over. Now came the more difficult part. He was going to have to watch Prowl and make sure he stayed out of trouble. With a tired vent, Jazz sat back and kicked his feet up on the desk.

That was going to be fun.

* * *

Author's Note- Sorry, folks! No mystery here, but I swear that the next chapter is! I am actually _excited_ about it! I've NEVER been excited about writing like this before!

Special thanks to **Nikkie2010** once again for helping me out so much!


	7. Chapter 7 So You Think You Can Date?

**Chapter 7 The Friend of My Friend is My Enemy or So You Think You Can Date?**

* * *

"What has got you in such high spirits?" Prowl asked from his relaxed position in his sacred armchair, the one and same that was forbidden territory for anything even remotely resembling a Jazz-creature. It was Prowl's and Prowl's _only – for special reasons._ The Praxian import sported plush crimson cushioning while the low-back, specially crafted design of the chair was carefully made for the express use of Doorwingers. It was a recliner from the Well of Primus himself gifted him for relaxation.

That was, if the spawn of Unicron would stay away from it.

Jazz seemed to float on his way to the sacred recliner, enthralled in his own little world and wearing a Cheshire grin that looked ready to split his faceplate in half.

Prowl raised his chin and optic ridges, a clear warning for Jazz to steer clear as he continued to approach the forbidden realm.

Jazz, for his part, seemed as oblivious to Prowl's warnings as the Council to the looming energon crisis and was about to place one hand on the chair when Prowl's hand shot up and grabbed his wrist.

"Chair." Came the rather cool reminder.

Jazz shuttered his optics twice as if only realizing where he was. "My bad." He said and raised his hands in the air, grin still plastered over his face. No way Prowl was going to ruin his good mood.

He turned and sauntered over to the sofa, plopping himself unceremoniously down. The Polyhexian kicked back, and put his hands behind his helm, oblivious to Prowl's brooding over his good humor.

"Ya'll never guess what happened." Jazz said, his voice dazed and distant as his mind went back to its little palace of ethereal bliss.

"Really?" Prowl asked with a cocked optic ridge, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "_I _won't be able to guess it?"

"Nope." Jazz said confidently. "Never."

Prowl set his data-pad aside. He crossed his legs and rested one elbow on them, using the same hand to cup his chin and mouth. His optics narrowed sharply as he stared at the other.

Jazz had started to get uncomfortable. "'kay, Prowl? Ya've been lookin' at meh for five breems now. Can ya just talk an' stop starin'?" Jazz asked hopefully, sitting up and forward to avoid shifting about.

"It's been only three and a half." Prowl corrected. With one fluid motion, he swung his pedes apart so that each foot rested firmly on the floor, and he clasped his hands in his lap. "You seem a bit different, distracted. You missed a bit of polish on your right shoulder, if you want proof of that point." Prowl started, motioning at Jazz. "I can only assume that it- whatever has you happy, not the wax- happened at the party you attended last night. The one I strongly advised _against_."

Jazz chuckled, quickly brushing the dried powder on his shoulder away. "And am Ah glad Ah didn't listen to ya." He said and leaned back, a goofy smile once again dominating his handsome face.

"And why is that?" Prowl asked dryly, disinterested and asking only because he knew Jazz wouldn't let the subject drop until he had told every last, utterly boring detail.

Jazz smirked and wriggled his helm a bit. "Ah gotta date."

Prowl cocked an optic ridge. _That_ was what this whole, unnecessary display of ethereal bliss was about? Prowl vented and picked his data-pad up to resume his activities. "What do you have to do?" He asked, still disinterested.

"Wha?" Jazz cocked an optic ridge as he was once again pulled back into the present. He shrugged after he took a moment to think. "Ah don' gotta do nothin'. Right now, anyways."

"But you have a date." Prowl argued, pulling himself away from his data-pad once again to face the Polyhexian. "What do you have to attend?" he asked again. Really, Jazz could be so thick at times.

Jazz narrowed his optics for a klik before it clicked. He threw his helm back as he rocked with unrestrained laughter. "Jeez, Prowl! Ah gotta _date_. With a bot!" he wheezed when he could vent again.

Prowl only looked at him blankly, optics staring at him as he waited for more information. Jazz shook his helm, laughter still bubbling out of him from time to time. Finally he cleared his vocalizer and stared at his irritated flatmate.

"A _date_, Prowl. Ya know, a bit o' courtin'?" Jazz asked hopefully as he waved his hand in the air.

"Courting?" Prowl repeated, looking as if the word had left a bad taste in his mouth. "I wasn't aware that you were interested in others."

"Ah'm always lookin' for a date." Jazz stated, leaning back on the sofa a bit. "Unlike somebot Ah know." He added softly, but not too softly, with a sideways glance.

Prowl huffed. "When is your _date_? And with whom? Do you know them at all? Past status and all?"

Jazz shrugged, not really caring that he was being bombarded with prying questions. This _was _Prowl, after all. "Ah don' know, Blaster said he'd call."

"Blaster." Prowl repeated, musing over the word. His processor whirred for a breem before he spoke. "I can't seem to find his name on any police records."

Jazz stared disbelievingly and a touch annoyed at his partner. "Police records? Really?"

Prowl looked at him oddly, as if checking other's pasts was the most natural thing in the world. "You met him at your little party, did you not? Other than the fact that you two are dating-"

"Going on a data." Jazz corrected as he flung himself back into the sofa.

"What?" Prowl stopped, forgetting the interruption only because Jazz had had the audacity to _correct him_.

"There's a dif'rence between datnin' and goin' on a date." Jazz stated, looking as if he were about to go into a long lecture on the distinct differences between the two.

"That's irrelevant to this conversation." Prowl grumbled, deleting the useless information before it could clutter his processor. "The point I am trying to make is that you do not even know this mech, but yet you wish to go out with him. Does that make any sense at all?" Prowl asked, sounding as if it made no sense to him.

Jazz furrowed his optic ridges and stared out the window, as if taking a moment to think about that before turning to Prowl with the same Cheshire grin splitting his faceplate. "Yep." he nodded, thoroughly satisfied with his answer and himself. "Ah wanna get ta know 'im better. Goin' on a date's the best way ta do tha'."

Prowl vented, pinching his olfactory bridge and shaking his helm. "When do we leave for this 'date'?"

Jazz was on his feet in an instant. "_We?_ Oh no, no, no, no Prowl, there ain't no 'we'. _Ah'm _goin' on a date. _Alone_."

Prowl's wings hitched a degree or two higher as he sat up in his chair, a confused look on his face. "What am I to do, then?"

Jazz looked at him as if he had welded on another head and shrugged. "Ah dunno, yer smart, aren't ya? Figure something out."

"But-"

"No." Jazz said firmly. "Jus' me an' Blaster's goin' on this date. You aren't invited."

Prowl pressed his lips together and crossed his servos. "Fine. Don't expect a bonding gift from me, though."

Jazz threw his hands up in the air as he grunted loudly. "Who said anythin' about bondin'?" he exclaimed, "It's ju' one date!"

Prowl rose his hand for silence. Jazz was about to give him an audioful, but stopped when the steady beep of Prowl's comm. come through. Prowl rose and left the room quickly, reaching up to press his temple.

Jazz flopped down on the sofa, ready to find something on the holo-vid or read a book until he got his call from Blaster. Before he could decide, his own comm. rang.

_Speak of Unicron! _Jazz smiled as he reached for his comm. button. :Jazz here:

: Hey, it's Blaster. We still on for that date? : a melodic voice rather similar to Jazz's but lacking the same accent thickness spoke over the comm.

: Ya bet, Blaster! : Jazz returned, sitting forward. : Anythin' ya had in mind? :

:Not really : Blaster returned. : Anything you wanted is good with me :

: How 'bout dinner? Ah know this nice place in town : Jazz suggested, mind filling with thought of a nice dinner, moonlit walk, maybe a kiss.

: Sounds good to me : Blaster said, his voice cheery. : Pick me up? :

: You bet : Jazz returned, grinning from audio to audio.

: See ya then : Blaster finished.

: Lookin' forward : Jazz added before shutting off his comm. He pulled back his fist and hissed. "Yes."

"I take it that you have set up your date." Prowl stated as he passed him for the door.

"Yep." Jazz said proudly. "Hang up, where do ya think yer headin'?"

"The station. There's a case." Prowl stated.

"An' ya think yer goin' alone?" Jazz asked, cocking an optic ridge.

"Of course. You have not been invited." Prowl said as nonchalantly as he could, but Jazz still caught the slight edge in his voice. Ever since Jazz had disposed of all the Quantum Prowl owned and had helped him through withdrawal, he hadn't let Prowl out of his sight. The only reason he had went to the party was because it had been only a few doors down, and Jazz was positive there was nothing drug-wise left in the house. Jazz vented and followed him towards the door.

Prowl stopped and turned smouldering optics on Jazz, doorwings heightened in defence and aggression. "I am heading to the s_tation_. Where you have blabbed to _everyone_ of my previous addiction."

"An'?" Jazz asked, crossing his arms across his chassis. "Ya think yer goin' alone?"

"Jazz, you are going on a date later this evening." Prowl stated, rolling his optics as Jazz seemed to be having such a hard time grasping the obvious. "A date _I _am not invited on. How did you think you were going to go if you were not going to leave me alone?"

Jazz shrugged. "Ah was thinkin' of havin' ya spend tha' time with Hudson."

Prowl's optics narrowed. "Hudson is not a botsitter, Jazz. She is our landlady. Also, I do _not _need to be watched!"

"Yeah, ya do." Jazz said firmly, softening a bit. "At least for now, anyways."

Prowl glared at Jazz "I will not be watched by Hu…"

"Her or Smokescreen. You're choice." Jazz stated, already knowing which one Prowl would choose.

Prowl scowled. "I hope you have not informed her of that 'visit' as I am now unable to keep it."

Jazz vented, glad that he had won his victory and made his point. "Ah'll let 'er know."

"Thank you." Prowl returned sharply, and turned on his heels to leave. Jazz's voice, and the Polyhexian's hand on his arm, stopped him once again. "What?" He barked out in exasperation.

"Prowl." Jazz started, all traces of good-humor gone. "Ah'm trustin' ya."

Prowl gave a sharp nod, not exactly sure how to answer. He shook his arm free from Jazz's grip, and hurried towards the staircase. Jazz chuckled a bit as Prowl went right by the lift, not even bothering to see if it would be faster or not.

He shook his head as he leaned against the closed door.

_Hope I'm doing the right thing. _Jazz mused inwardly. All thoughts of Prowl went flying out the window as he caught sight of himself in the holo-vid's screen. _Damn, I better go clean up. If I look half as bad as Prowl says I do, I need to start paying attention!_

* * *

Jazz couldn't wipe the grin off his face as he opened the door for his date. He couldn't stop smiling as they were seated in one of the nicest restaurants Jazz could think off. And he frowned deeply at the mech he saw seated on the other side of the room.

Blaster stopped talking after he glanced at Jazz's face. "Hey, is...something wrong?" he started to turn, following Jazz's line of sight.

"No! Don't make optic contact" Jazz exclaimed, leaning across the table to try and get Blaster to sit back down, only to sit back heavily himself as he failed. "Ah mean..."

"Who is that?" Blaster asked as an odd bot waved at him- or more particular- Jazz.

Jazz pulled his hand from his face. "It's a nobody. Jus' ignore 'im an' maybe-" he cut himself off with a groan as the 'nobody' rose and came towards them.

"Fancy meeting you here!" the 'nobody' exclaimed as he pulled a seat away from one table and sat down next to Jazz.

"Blaster...Ah'm so sorry." Jazz moaned. "Meet-meet mah roommate, Prowl."

"Pleasure." Prowl said merrily, sticking a hand out at the surprised red mech.

Blaster got over his moment's shock and greeted the other mech with a warm smile and firm hand shake. "Nice to meet you. This is Prowl?" he asked, turning to Jazz.

Jazz nodded. "Yep. Now, jus' _wha' _are ya doin' here?" he glowered.

"I wanted to meet your date." Prowl said, flashing a charming smile at the red mech. "And I'm glad I did. A Stereo-mech, interesting. Not many of your build."

Blaster chuckled. "Nope. I knew one bot like me, though. That was a long time ago, though."

"A past mate?" Prowl asked, even though his voice was far too close to a statement for Jazz's taste. Jazz frowned as he picked up something in Prowl's doorwings. Jealousy, rather uncommon for a bot without any 'emotion' to speak of, but there none the less.

Blaster looked taken back. "Actually...yes. I-I don't know how you knew that, but-"

"Oh, you didn't tell me." Prowl stated. He used to fingers to motion to the red mech's frame. "I read it."

"You read me?" Blaster asked, smiling a bit. "Jazz told me about your 'powers', but I didn't believe him."

"Would you like me to read you aloud?" Prowl asked, doorwings perking up at the suggestion.

"No!" Jazz exclaimed, shaking his head furiously. Of all the things that could go wrong!

"Sure." Blaster smirked, grinning back at Jazz. "It'll be all right." He said and reached across to grab Jazz's hand. Prowl quickly dropped his servo to their entwined hands before looking back up, optics twinkling ominously.

Jazz vented heavily as he sank back into the chair, still clutching Blaster's hand. _Please don't hate me once he's done. Please don't hate me once he's done. Please. _He kept repeating his soft mantra while stoically ignoring Prowl.

Prowl dramatically swung his hand about, cradled his chin, and rubbed his lip with one digit as he carefully looked over Blaster. With that same digit, he pointed out.

"You and your past mate, you had sparklings together. All cassettes." Prowl stated.

Blaster nodded. "Wow, that's pretty good. How'd ya guess that?"

"Around your stereo-player." Prowl pointed. "It's opened a bit around the edges from frequent usage. There are a few different strokes of paint near the top, ranging from a pinkish magenta to a golden yellow."

"Those are my cassettes all right." Blaster stated.

"_And_." Jazz interrupted. "Blaster told me all about them. Steeljaw, Ramhorn, Eject, and Rewind."

Blaster smiled, oblivious to Prowl's deep frown. This wasn't working. Jazz knew about the creations and past mate. He was going to have to dig in deeper.

"Now, your frame also gives away a few things. Like the fact that your mate left you." Prowl stated.

"Prowl." Jazz growled, threat obvious in his voice as he stared at his and Blaster's entwined hands, only to be silenced by the other's free hand.

"Let him finish." Blaster stated, his voice mumbled.

"Thank you." Prowl smiled faintly at the red mech. "Around your wrist is a discoloured area. There was once a thin yellow ring there, marking you as mated. Your mate, though, was unfaithful and when you learned of it, you immediately had the bond dissolved. That's the only logical explanation for you still being here." Prowl puckered for a moment before continuing. "You painted over your wrist, covering the bonding band, and are now looking for a new bot to-"

Prowl got no further as something very wet covered him from helm to waist. He blinked the energon from his optics just in time to see Blaster set aside his cube and rise.

"You're right, I did have a mate." Blaster stated, optics narrowed into slits. "Only thing wrong with your deduction there is that he didn't leave me... he offlined."

"Offlined?" Prowl repeated, not even bothering to at least shake the energon from him as flabbergasted as he was.

"Yep. Nearly killed me when it happened, as _close _as we were." Blaster continued, voice dipping to a new low. "Nearly took me and Eject when Frequency offlined."

Blaster wasn't able to continue as he voice cracked. He turned sharply, and left both Jazz and Prowl sitting there. Jazz growled audibly, causing Prowl's dripping helm to face the other black and white as he too rose.

"Ah knew about the mate an' kids, Prowl." Jazz scolded. "What Ah _don_' know is why ya followed meh here when ya had a case."

"It was a simple case, Jazz. It-"

"Ah don' care!" Jazz nearly shouted, pounding one fist on the table. "'Cause o' you, Blaster is…" Jazz whirled around in time to see Blaster head out the door. "Blaster!" Jazz exclaimed as he hurried after the red mech.

Prowl sat, alone and dripping with Blaster's energon. With a vent, he too rose to leave.

"Eh!" a waiter called to him as he started to leave. "You have to pay for that!"

"That wasn't me, though." Prowl stated. "I didn't eat."

"Well, they bought stuff and _you're _gonna pay for it." the waiter demanded, bill held out for the sticky Praxian.

"I-" Prowl grumbled, lowering his doorwings. He snatched the bill away, and his optics rose after he lifted the sheet to read it.

(/line)

"Blaster." Jazz vented in relief as he found the red mech, off to the side of the building and leaning against it. The bottom of one pede rested on the brick foundation, while his helm was lifted to the sky. "Blaster, Ah-Ah'm so sorry. Ah swear, Ah told him ta-"

Blaster shook his helm, shakily ventilating as he lowered his helm from the stars to look at Jazz. "I-It's all right."

"No." Jazz said, sliding his hand over the red servo. "It's not. 'E had no right ta say…"

Blaster shook his helm again, cutting Jazz off. "I think- I think I just want to go home."

Jazz nodded. "All right. Ah'll take ya back."

"Thank you." Blaster returned, watching the ground.

Jazz transformed and opened one door. It had taken years of practice, but Blaster managed to collapse into a boom box and hop into Jazz's front seat at the same time. He remained rather silent the entire trip back, only speaking once the door opened to let him out.

"Thanks." Blaster said quietly, helm low as Jazz walked him to his front door.

"Ah-Ah should go." Jazz said, motioning back towards the road with his helm and thumb.

"You can stay awhile, if you'd like." Blaster offered, keying open the door.

"Are ya sure?" Jazz asked. "Ah mean, Prowl was…" Jazz cleared his vocalizer. _Prowl was being Prowl._

"That was Prowl." Blaster stated, stepping inside. "I know you're different."

Jazz smirked, lopsided as usual. "Lemme prove it to ya."

Blaster chuckled as he slid the door closed and locked it. Jazz started to speak, but Blaster raised a digit to silence him. The one digit went to three, and slowly reduced to one again as he counted down. The pound of multiple pedes came from above as little bots ran to greet their carrier.

"Carrier!" a little bot, black and blue and with a visor, shouted as he ran and clung to Blaster's red pede. "Carrier, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"What's wrong, mini-mech?" Blaster asked, crouching down to pull in the distraught, keening youngling.

"I-I've looked everywhere!" the youngling mini-bot sobbed. "I don't know h-how it happened!"

"Calm down, Eject. Take a vent and tell me. It can't be that bad." Blaster soothed, stroking his creation in a vain attempt to calm him.

"S-Steeljaw's still out looking." Eject cried, his pedes seeming to give out from under him as he continued to cry. "Ram's checked too."

"Checking?" Blaster asked, realization hitting him like a lightning bolt. He took Eject by the shoulders and straightened him up." 'Ject, what's wrong."

"We can't find Rewind!" Eject exclaimed, fresh coolant pouring from under his visor.

"Wha'?" Blaster vented, panic beginning to seep into his voice, but he quickly squashed it. He had to stay calm. "'Ject-Eject! Calm down and tell me what's happened. Rewind's too little to wander away by himself!"

"I don't know." Eject keened brokenly. "We've looked all over! We can't find him!"

"Why didn't you call me?" Blaster demanded.

Eject's intakes hatched harshly as he buried his helm in his carrier's bent pede. Blaster grabbed him by his shoulders and pushed him back to scold again when a soft hand rested on his shoulder. He turned, nearly having forgotten about inviting Jazz in. Jazz was pulling him to his pedes, and leading him to the couch.

"Blaster, jus' take a vent an' chill, 'kay?" Jazz said smoothly. "Call the rest o' yer creations together an' Ah'll call for some backup."

Blaster nodded, numbly. "A-all right."

Jazz turned to comm., but stopped and let his servo slowly fall. "Ah, Ah gotta call somebot else, too."

"Who?" Blaster asked, a hand over Eject's back as the youngling continued to sob mercilessly into his pede.

"Blaster..." Jazz started. "Ah swear, Ah wouldn't call him if Ah didn' know he could help."

"Wh-No." Blaster said firmly, his voice sharper than a blade.

"Blaster." Jazz soothed, a hand on the red mech's arm. "Ah swear, when he's on a case he's totally business. Ah promise, Ah'll make sure 'e does nothin' ta hurt ya again."

Blaster vented, hanging his helm. That was all the permission Jazz needed, as he quickly turned to comm. again.

* * *

Miserable didn't even begin to describe how they must have been feeling on the inside. Blaster was still seated on the sofa, Eject on his lap and calmed down some. The youngling sniffed from time to time, and he had a bad case of the heebie-jeebies. Laying on the floor by his pedes was a golden-rod colored lion felinoid. His mane was grown out some, but he still resembled an over-large kitty. Finally, on the sofa next to Blaster, sprawled a miserable magenta rhino.

Jazz shifted uncomfortably as he relayed what he knew to his fellow Enforcers. He glanced back at Prowl, who was seated across from Blaster and questioning the mech with an air of one who had never wronged another in his life.

"When did you realize that your youngling was missing?" Prowl asked.

Blaster shook his helm. "I only just found out. Eject was babysitting while I was out, and-"

Prowl raised his hand before the red mech could nervously ramble on. "Eject, this little one here?" he asked, pointing at the youngling leaning against Blaster's chassis.

Blaster nodded in confirmation.

"Eject." Prowl addressed calmly, using a voice Jazz hadn't heard him use yet. "You, I assume, are the oldest?"

Eject nodded tiredly. "Yeah. I was watching m-my sibs while carrier w-went out."

"I know that much." Prowl stated. "What I need to know is when _you _realized that Rewind was missing."

Eject sniffed, his intakes hitching. "W-well... I-I don't know." the distraught youngling began crying again, burying his face in his hands.

"Eject." Prowl said firmly, but not enough so as to alarm Blaster. "I need you to be very calm right now. You are the only one who can tell us what you know. It might be crucial in finding your little brother. Now, starting with when Blaster left, tell me what happened."

Eject took a few shaky vents, and tried to focus. He really wanted his brother back. It was all his fault he was missing. He should have watched him better. "W-When Carrier left we all watched a movie..."

Prowl nodded. "I assume you did more."

Eject nodded and his intakes hitched a moment. "Then we...I got some energon for all of us...low grade for Rewind."

"Good." Prowl encouraged. "Go on."

"Well, i-it was still bright out, and we went outside to play." Eject stated, wiping his olfactory on his servo. "We wanted to play ball, but it was still inside."

"You went back in for it?" Prowl stated more then asked, his optics bright as he memorized each detail.

Eject nodded. "It was up on the shelf, though. I called Steeljaw to help me..."

"Just Steeljaw?" Prowl questioned, eyeing the metallic cat curled around Blaster's pede.

Eject's optics widened. "Ram came too!" he realized. "We left Rewind all a-alone." he began to sob again.

"But, I had the gate shut." Blaster stated, rubbing soothingly on the youngling's back. "And locked. Only I know the codes to open it."

"How high is this lock?" Prowl asked, completely poised and his frame revealing nothing on his inside thoughts.

Blaster puckered his face as he mused for a klik. "Pretty high. I don't think they could reach it even if they stood on top of one another."

Prowl nodded as he took it in. They were all mini-bots, as cassettes usually were. And, as younglings, smaller still. He remained silent for a second, carefully organizing the new information as he saw fit.

_Blaster leaving, a movie put on to entertain the younglings for a while. Unimportant. Delete._

_Dinner prepared by the oldest for younger siblings. Unimportant. Delete._

_Early evening- going out to play. Returning inside for toy. Of semi-importance. Save in back file, remember to delete if unnecessary. Saved._

_Lock on gate, locked before leaving and checked. Too high for a youngling mini/micro-bot to reach without assistance of multiple peers or average adult. Important. Save in prominent file. Saved._

Prowl vented in slightly as he returned to full consciousness. "Eject, when and how did you realize Rewind was gone."

"When we came back, he was just gone!" Eject exclaimed, optics watering as he fought to keep from crying again.

"How old is he?" Prowl asked, glancing up at Blaster, who was listening just as hard as Prowl was.

"He's still very little, barely out of his sparkling phase." Blaster answered, making a cradle with his servos. "Just learning to walk and all."

"So there's no possible way for Rewind to have simply wandered off in the time it took the others to return?" Prowl asked.

Both Blaster and Eject shook their helm. Prowl sat back, his digits forming steeples as he pressed them against his mouth.

"Eject, when you realized that Rewind was missing, what did you do?" Prowl asked, already having a pretty good idea but needing confirmation.

"Well, first we all called and looked around the yard." Eject stated, leaning against Blaster tiredly. "Then Steeljaw and Ramhorn looked around the block-"

"Wasn't the gate locked?" Prowl asked, his hands falling into his lap as he leaned forward.

Eject's optics furrowed in deep thought. After a second, he shook his helm. "N-No...it was wide open."

"That didn't strike you as odd?" Prowl asked in a slightly reprimanding tone.

"I-I was too worried to notice. I looked all over the house, then Carrier came home." Eject finished, sniffing once more.

Prowl nodded, adding more information in a similar pattern as before. "Blaster, it's late. I would suggest putting your younglings to bed before we continue."

"I think they're-" Blaster started to argue, only stopping. Prowl just wanted the youth away so that he could ask more questions, some that might not be suitable for little audios. With a nod, he rose, holding Eject on his side. "Come on, guys. Bedtime."

Steeljaw rose without a sound, his padded pedes falling softly as he pattered beside Blaster. Ramhorn hopped down a bit louder than his brother, and clinked as he plodded after Blaster.

"Ya get anythin'?" Jazz asked, leaving the Enforcers to come to Prowl.

Prowl shook his helm. "Not of great importance. Other than the backyard needs to be observed."

"All ready on it." Jazz stated. "Jus' sent some of the guys back ta-"

"No!" Prowl exclaimed, leaping to his pedes. "Get them out of there before they destroy any evidence!"

"Prowl, they're trained Enforcers." Jazz argued. "They're not gonna-"

"They are brutes who trample over footprints, muck up finger-print readings, and break tangible evidence like incompetent sparklings!" Prowl said firmly as he glanced outside. "And it's dark! You sent a bunch of bumbling idiots into a crime scene at night!"

"Prowl, their jus' markin' it off." Jazz finally said. "Ah'll watch 'em an' make sure-"

"No." Prowl interrupted once again. "If you want to increase your own deductive reasoning, you need to be on hand. Also..." Prowl looked a bit sheepish. "I'm not sure as to how Blaster will react once he no longer has to act around his younglings."

Jazz vented and nodded. "Fine, fine. Ah'll stay put."

"Good." Prowl stated. "Blaster's coming now."

Jazz turned to see the red mech trudging down the stairs to re-enter the interrogation. Blaster vented sharply as he sat down heavily, letting his frame sag into the sofa. He looked like he was about to say something, but shook it away and scrubbed his face with his hand.

Jazz plopped himself next to the red mech, whose tears fell silent yet didn't go unnoticed, and wrapped a servo around him. While Prowl hated the 'emotional' part of cases, they always took up such a great deal of time that could be spent in better places, he had to admit that Jazz usually handled them very well.

"It'll be okay." Jazz promised. "Jus' take a vent an' loosen up for a klik."

Blaster drew in a shaky vent, and released it much the same way. He brushed away the baby blue streaks marring his face, and turned back to Prowl. As much as he hated that bot inwardly, he _had _to get his youngling back.

"So, uh..." Blaster cleared his vocalizer of static. "What do ya need to know?"

"Who are your enemies?" Prowl asked bluntly. Blaster scowled hotly, but vented to try and cool his nerves after a soothing touch from Jazz.

"What do you mean by that?" Blaster asked. "I'll be the first to tell ya that I have a few, but more likely just bots that doesn't like me."

"Who would go as far as to kidnap your youngling?" Prowl asked.

Blaster shrugged. His intakes hitched at the word 'kidnap'. Subconsciously, he knew that's what had happened. Deep down, though, he was hoping against it. He wasn't able to speak as his vocalizer froze up, and only emitted a bit of static and a low keen. He leaned into Jazz's embrace when his warm, white servos wrapped around him.

Prowl vented but said nothing. Jazz usually got upset when he scolded a client for getting emotional. Instead, he took the time to observe the room. Maybe learn some things about Blaster that were better left unsaid.

There was a mantle, full of the typical family-type things. Knickknacks and holo-cubes with onlined pictures. Most were distinguishable, Blaster doing something with a yellow and orange mech and the younglings about them doing something similar. One, though, stood out to Prowl more than any other.

It contained only Blaster, from the family unit anyways. Beside him was a bot of similar build, a Stereo-mech. He had both a silver mask and a visor of his shades- dark blue with what seemed to be highlights of deep violet. They weren't posing, but both seemed to be oblivious to the fact that their picture had just been scanned. They were both hunched over a desk, random bit of metal and scrap scattered about in what looked like a radio talk-show room.

"Who is that?" Prowl asked aloud, pointing at the purple mech. "He is not your ex-mate."

Blaster bristled a bit as _Prowl _mentioned his mate once again. "How do you know that?" he dared.

"There is only one image of him whereas there are plenty of you with your family unit, including who I can only assume is Frequency." Prowl pointed at the yellow and orange bot in another picture.

Blaster didn't retaliate. "The first mech's Soundwave. We worked together for a while. Things went downhill between us, though."

"Were you bonded at this time?" Prowl asked, motioning to the entire picture.

Blaster nodded. "Yeah. Wave and I were partners." he breathed out a dry chuckle. "Talk-show hosts."

Prowl nodded, remaining silent for Blaster to continue.

"He had the skills and the contacts to set it up, and I had the voice." Blaster smirked. "It was a pretty popular radio show for a while." Blaster shrugged as he looked for more words. "Ratings dropped, Soundwave and I had our fall-out…"

"On what? Was the argument important?" Prowl asked, processor on high alert.

Blaster snorted. "Slag, no. He blamed me for the bad ratings, I got angry and we just... fell apart."

"That's it, what then? The two of you just went your separate ways, never speaking again?" Prowl pressed, retaking the seat he had been in previously.

"Naw..." Blaster admitted after a klik. "Wave started to do some funky things... He would show up uninvited at times to argue. Frequency would have to get rid of him as he wouldn't listen to me. Then there were some pretty nasty comms. I won't get into. Once Freq died though...He just... stopped."

"Stopped?" Prowl parroted, prying for more information. "How?"

"Just like that." Blaster snapped. "He just stopped. Pretty sure he actually moved away, too."

"Do you have any ideas where?" Prowl asked.

Blaster puckered in though, but shook his helm. "My guess'd be on Kaon. He talked about it a lot."

Prowl nodded, preparing himself to sort through the information. Instead, a sniffle from the stairs turned both his, Blaster's and Jazz's helms in that direction.

"What are ya doing up, still?" Blaster asked, rising from Jazz's embrace to go to the stairs, motioning the youngling down.

"I-I couldn't sleep." Eject hung his helm. "I k-kept looking at his crib. It's so empty, an-"

Blaster knelt down, hushing him. "It's all right. Wanna sleep in my room, then?"

Eject shook his helm. "I'm not tired."

Prowl cocked an optic ridge at that statement. It was a boldfaced lie. The entire frame of the youngling seemed to scream 'Fatigue'. His shoulders sagged forward, he yawned frequently, he shuttered slower every sixth blink, and he rubbed at his puffy optics every few breems.

"All right." Blaster said, patting the youngling. "You can sit with me, but you gotta be quiet, all right?"

Eject nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

Blaster sat back down and pulled Eject in tight. The youngling snuggled into his carrier's lap, silent as ordered.

"Anything else?" Blaster asked, petting Eject's servo in a two-way comfort.

Prowl shook his helm, nearly done sorting out the final details. "Would it be permissible for me to look around? Youngling rooms, back yard-"

Blaster shook his helm quickly. "Not the youngling's room. Not while they're sleeping."

Prowl vented. "The back yard?" he tried.

Blaster agreed. "You'll need the light on. The switch's by the back door."

Prowl nodded and quickly rose. He instantly found the switch, and slid the glass door aside. Jazz bit his bottom lip to hide a smirk when the muffled sounds of the Praxian yelling at some poor Enforcer came through the closed door.

"Are ya gonna be all righ' for a klik?" Jazz asked, glancing at the door.

Blaster nodded, cradling a half-asleep Eject. "Yeah." he vented as Jazz rose. "Hey..." Jazz froze as Blaster called out and turned back to him.

Blaster gave a half-sparked, watery smile. "Thanks."

Jazz smiled softly and pat Blaster's shoulder before hurrying after Prowl. The mech was by the gate, staring at the lock as if he were trying to open it with his mind.

"Find anything?" Jazz asked as he closed the gap between them.

"This is a five combination lack." Prowl stated, slamming the gate closed and nodding in satisfaction when it clicked.

"Ya jus' locked us in." Jazz vented, turning to go get Blaster and ask him for the code. A loud 'bing' turned him around again as Prowl pushed the gate back open. "Erm..."

"Child's play." Prowl muttered as he continued. "It is too high for any one or combination of the younglings to open it."

Jazz nodded. It came to almost face level to both of them. The gate was a typical white picket, with large enough slits to see through. As it was dark now, it appeared grayer and reflected the rotating red and blue lights of the Enforcers.

"Jazz." Prowl cut the other's line of though and motioned him over. He pointed at a black mark at the very top of the pointed fence. "What do you make of that?"

Jazz zoomed in his optics, and got a good look at the smudge. He narrowed them a klik. "Looks like black paint ta meh."

Prowl nodded. "Yes. It's black paint. Odd for it to be up so high, don't you think? This fence is too tall for even an average adult to scale. If you tried right now, what would happen?"

Jazz snorted. "Ah'd make a fool outta maheself."

"Besides the obvious." Prowl scoffed. He motioned at the paint and explained himself. "This paint is only on the top. If you tried to scale this, you would rub your paint all over the sides of it."

Jazz nodded, picturing a mech scrambling over the fence. "Ya can't really hop this gate with a sparklin' in hand, either." Jazz pointed out.

Prowl looked at him a second, back at the fence, and then nodded. "No, you couldn't. Adequately done, Jazz."

Jazz cocked an optic ridge. He went to reply, only to shake his helm and decided against it. There was no point in arguing. Prowl was looking around the gate again, this time crouched low to the ground. He pointed at a marking without a word, looking more like he was pointing it out to himself than to Jazz.

"A footprint?" Jazz asked, crouching and leaning forward to get a peek at what Prowl was unconsciously blocking.

"Paw." Prowl corrected, straightening up but remaining crouched. "A paw print."

He rose hurriedly and walked about the perimeter of the yard. His helm was held straight down, and Jazz imagined his doorwings and zoomed in optics to make up for the trench coat and magnifying glass he was currently missing.

"Find somethin'?" Jazz asked, being careful not to follow. He'd hate to muck up a crime scene.

"The prints stop right here." Prowl stopped suddenly, marking the spot with a stomp of his foot. "Then they backtrack." he followed them back to Jazz.

"Steeljaw?" Jazz asked with a shrug. ""E's got paws."

"He's much larger then whatever this is." Prowl stated. "Jazz, call Station." he ordered suddenly, with that look on his face that he always got when something clicked or he had a hunch.

"Why?" Jazz asked, hand ready and waiting to press his comm.

"Have him look up that mech Soundwave." Prowl answered. "Where he's living now, who he's mated to, and how many and what kind of cassettes he has."

"Soundwave?" Jazz questioned. After a withering look from the Praxian he nodded quickly. "Got it."

"And hurry up." Prowl ordered, peering in through the glass door leading back into the house.

"Why, what's up?" Jazz asked, a little tired of being bossed around. He was an apprentice, not an assistant. Well, maybe a little bit of an assistant, but still, a 'please' wouldn't kill him. Would it?

"Something appears to be wrong with Eject." Prowl stated calmly before disappearing into the house.

It took everything Jazz had in him to _not _rush after him. Info first, then Eject.

* * *

"Take is easy." Blaster soothed as Eject coughed dryly yet harshly. "Take it ya skipped your meds again?"

Eject nodded, trying hard to control the choked cough that made his throat feel constricted while his spark beat madly.

"May I offer some assistance?" a cool, calm voice asked from the back doorway, making Blaster turn.

The red mech was surprised to see the tall and rather thin form of the Praxian. "Uh, yeah. In the kitchens some pills, should be on the counter, blue bottle. Grab those and some 'gon from the cooler."

Prowl gave a nod before turning. Blaster scooped up his creation and gently plopped him down on the sofa. "Just try to take a deep breath for me." he said calmly.

Eject tried, only to double over coughing even harder like an old engine trying to dredge out its last fumes. Blaster patted him on the back as Prowl returned, only a cube of energon in his hand.

"I thought I asked-"

"I took the liberty of mixing them into the energon myself." Prowl stated, rising up on his pedes and back down in nervous habit. He offered the cube to the red mech, knelt down before the couch. "Spark condition, I take it?"

Blaster cocked an optic ridge as he took the proffered cube. "Yeah. He always had a little something with his spark, nothing medicine worthy, but it got bad when Frequency offlined."

Prowl hummed sympathetically as Blaster pressed the cube to Eject's lips. At first, the youngling coughed most of it back out before even swallowing, but once a few sips had been absorbed into his tubes, his coughing slowed to a stop. He looked tired as his spark rate slowed again, and finished the cube slowly once it was placed in his own hands.

"Is everythin' okay?" Jazz asked a little frantically as he hurried into the house. "Prowl said-"

"Everything is fine now." Prowl said swiftly, noticing with keen optics as Jazz's frame relaxed in relief. Why should he care so much for another's youngling? It wasn't his own, so why bother? Prowl himself hadn't been worried, per say, but had seen an area in which needed some assistance. He had acted as the situation required.

"I'm just taking 'Ject up to bed." Blaster stated, gathering up the groggy youngling, now more so with the drugs flowing through his tubes.

He wasn't too tired to remember the original reason for staying up, though. "But-"

"In my room." Blaster added, more to the youngling then to the black and white mechs.

"Need some help?" Jazz offered, feeling a bit bad that he hadn't been there when Blaster might have needed help.

"Sure." Blaster smirked, climbing the stairs without waiting for Jazz.

Prowl's optics narrowed a bit as Jazz tailed the red mech. It just wasn't right. Jazz was _his_... his... what was Jazz to him, anyways? Well, an appren-, no…assistant! That, and a partner. Yes, a partner. Nothing more, but certainly nothing less.

* * *

Prowl was pacing the floor, hands behind back, by the time Jazz and Blaster returned. It had taken a little longer as Blaster had woken up Steeljaw to sleep with Eject, and Ramhorn had wanted to come too. Jazz had made sure to get a picture of the three younglings all curled up around each other in the berth. He had a special place he was going to keep that picture.

"Ya get anythin'?" Jazz asked hopefully.

"I received a data-burst from Station while you were up there." Prowl stated, stopping his pacing but leaving his hands behind his back. "Blaster." he addressed the red mech, who instantly turned his attention to the Praxian. "You said earlier that you were unaware of the whereabouts of Soundwave. Well, he has moved to the city of Kaon."

Blaster shuddered a bit. "Not a nice place."

"Were you aware that he was bonded?" Prowl asked, optics straight at the red mech, unwavering and a bit uncomfortable.

"I remember him mentioning it once or twice. Never got a name on the bot, though." Blaster stated, running through his processor quickly just to make sure there was no name.

"That bit is unimportant, as he's offlined, much like your Frequency." Prowl said quickly, hoping to skip over the unimportant bits quickly. He paused, though, as a sudden question popped into his mind. "How did Frequency offline, just for my own curiosity?"

Blaster chuckled dryly raising a shaking hand to his helm. "I'm just as in the dark in that as you." he answered. "He just never came home one day- he was a factory worker. One moment I was getting something from the kitchen, the next face first on the ground as the bond snapped. I told you earlier it did a number on Eject and me- mainly Eject- but I never told you that I was sparked at the time."

"Rewind?" Jazz asked, a hand on the red mech's arm for emotional support.

Blaster nodded. "Yep. They did an emergency separation. It was a good thing 'Wind was strong little mech. Barely affected him a bit."

Prowl nodded, sorting through the information and filing it accordingly. "All right, back to our previous conversation, Soundwave. He was mated, had cassettes. Four, but Station wasn't able to find out what they were."

"That's easy." Blaster waved a hand and huffed. "His first set was twins, Rumble and Frenzy. Then he had two more- separate though. One was a panther scan designated Ravage and the other... I think it was some kind of bird. A condor or vulture or something like that called Laserbeak."

Prowl nodded, putting one of the younger cassettes in his 'Exceedingly Important' sections. "One last question. You and Soundwave worked together at a radio station, correct?" Blaster nodded. "Where was it, exactly?"

"It was just a little run down place." Blaster stated, not allowing himself to dwell on past memories. He wanted his youngling back, now! All he could think about was what terrible things that could be happening to him right now. He swallowed and continued. "Just a little place, just off of Main. Well, off of Main and down Hacksaw. The place is abandoned now, as far as I know."

"Good." Prowl stated. "I know that I promised that that was the last question, but I have only one more."

"Shoot." Blaster returned nonchalantly. Prowl could cross-examine him if he wanted. He'd come to decide that Prowl really wasn't all that terrible. Eccentric, most definitely. He had a big mouth when he spoke, but was usually quiet unless necessary. He really didn't mean to be rude, and if he did then Primus help him because he'll be sorry one day, but all in all, he wasn't that bad.

"Would you be comfortable leaving your younglings here? It shouldn't be longer then a joor." Prowl stated. Okay, good sparked, yes. Stupid, slag yeah. Did he honestly expect him to leave his younglings after one had been _stolen _from him?

"Jazz's staying here then, right?" Blaster asked, casting a worried glance at the visored Polyhexian.

Prowl shook his helm. "No."

Blaster bit his lip in hesitation. "Why do you want me to leave?"

"Because I know where Rewind is." Prowl stated firmly, in such a way that it was exceedingly hard to not believe him.

"You-you think th-"

"No." Prowl interrupted the red mech harshly. "I _know _where Rewind is."

"Ya sure, Prowl?" Jazz asked, visor brightening a bit with the good news.

Prowl gave a nod. Blaster's optics widened. "Is he safe, then? You don't think-"

"If I am correct, then Rewind is perfectly safe." Prowl answered quickly. "He will be tired, but that is to be expected. To find out, though, we _must _leave now."

"Do I have to leave?" Blaster asked. "I-I could just get in the way."

"Ah think Prowl wants ya ta come 'cus he's not too good wi' kids." Jazz smirked. "An Rewind might be wound up an' scared."

Blaster shifted uncomfortably. "Fine. But we have to be quick."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Prowl stated. "Jazz, go alert the Enforcers to keep careful watch of the place. Tell them that it is imperative for them _not _to follow us and to stay put. They'll receive more information as it comes."

"Got it." Jazz said with a sharp nod before scurrying off in the direction of a few Enforcers.

"Where are we heading?" Blaster asked, following the Praxian to the road.

"Main." Prowl answered, transforming. He didn't open his door, as Blaster would probably be more comfortable with Jazz as his chauffer. "Or, more accurately, Hacksaw."

* * *

Blaster vented, his breath causing a little cloud to form in the chilly night air. This street, a bit run down but not exactly a slum, didn't really bring back too many good memories. There were a bunch, but they were clouded over with the bad ones of the radio band breaking up.

"Ya okay?" Jazz asked softly from beside him, doing his best to keep up with Prowl.

Blaster shrugged. What was he supposed to say? 'My youngling's gone, I abandoned the rest, and I'm back in a place I hate, yep. I'm completely hunky-dory.'

Jazz patted his shoulder, but grabbed it the next moment to keep both him and Blaster from colliding with the Praxian's frame as he suddenly stopped dead in front of them. The Praxian lifted a finger to his lips to indicate absolute silence from the two. He motioned for Blaster to hang back, behind an offset dumpster. He then pulled an acid pellet gun from his subspace and Jazz mirrored him with his laser blaster.

: Don't shoot unless absolutely necessary : Prowl warned through a private comm. before pressing himself against an old, boarded up building's wall. He vented in, and shouted. "Soundwave! I know you're in there! Come out with the youngling and put your hands up and you will go unharmed!"

There was nothing but a long silence, marked only by the wail of sirens in the background as some Enforcer chased a speeder on his beat.

"Soundwave! You have only one exit, this here door as the rest are barred shut. We are armed and will not hesitate to shoot." Prowl shouted.

Again he was answered only by the traffic on Main. He motioned to the door with his helm.

: On three : Prowl hissed over the comm., as if whispering inwardly was the same as audibly. : One... Two...:

Before he could reach there, a loud crash and the sounds of a scuffle came from the inside. Jazz swung ahead and kicked in the door with one swift motion. It split at the lock and hissed up. A scream, a youngling's scream, echoed off the walls as a purple mini-bot ducked down.

Jazz nearly froze but was jarred back into motion as Prowl pushed by him. There on the floor, bound and gagged, was none other but the purple mech from the cube. Soundwave himself struggled against his binds as a panther, still small and kitten-like, gnawed on the steel wire wrapped around his carrier's pedes. A black bird, who seemed to have been pecking at his carrier's bound hands, which were uncomfortably tied behind his back, now squawked loudly at the sudden intrusion.

Prowl sprang forward, pulling back the panther felinoid and removing only Soundwave's gag.

"Where is Rewind?" he demanded, pinning the already downed mech.

"Youngling:-" Soundwave was cut off as Blaster suddenly appeared in the doorway.

"Soundwave?" Blaster exclaimed, seemingly stupefied for only a moment. Blaster's head suddenly snapped towards the back of the building where the sound studio had usually been located. He stood frozen for a klik before he suddenly bolted towards the area.

"Do ya have 'im?" Jazz called after him, torn between going with Blaster and staying with Prowl.

Jazz was just about to dash after Blaster when he appeared once again, relief covering his entire frame as a youngling, just barely out of its sparkling frame, curled in his servo. He was black with deep magenta highlight, and sucked his digits while tears streamed down his face.

"Why?" Blaster asked, his voice near breaking as he stared at the blue Stereo-mech.

"Motives: same." Soundwave answered simply, not offering so much as a single word of better explanation.

"From the fraggin' rating?" Blaster exclaimed, completely outraged. "That was vorns ago. The station failed because it failed. It was a bad time, we went in debt, and it just went under!" Jazz went and put his hand on Blaster's servo to try and calm him some before the mech blew a gasket.

"Why don' we get this lil' mech home?" he asked quickly, turning Blaster's attention from the bound mech on the floor. "Ya both look tired."

Blaster nodded, venting tiredly. "All right." he agreed.

"Ah'll drive ya." Jazz stated. "Jus' wait outside a klik."

Blaster left, leaving Prowl and Jazz alone with the youngling cassettes of Soundwave, and Soundwave himself.

"How'd ya end up like this?" Jazz ordered, all reading sending out an internal comm. to the Enforcers back at the house to start coming here.

"Enforcing law number 16, paragraph 5, line 7." Soundwave seemed to hum, his voice was so monotonous. "Right to remain silent."

"Prowl?" Jazz asked, turning to the mech who had his optics squeezed shut and his digits pinching his olfactory ridge. "What do you make of it?"

"We have to go home." Prowl said simply, never moving from his crouched position.

"Ya okay?" Jazz asked, a bit of worry in his voice.

"Take Blaster to his home." Prowl ordered. "I'll wait here for the Enforcers to arr-" a flash of lights and blare of sirens made him stop and change mid-sentence. "Take Blaster and Rewind home. The Enforcers will take care of things here. I'm going home."

"Wha's wrong?" Jazz asked, stepping out of the way as Enforcers came in to cart Soundwave down to the station.

"I need to think." Prowl vented slowly. "This doesn't add up. Someone knew this before us. Someone...did this. There's no one else, though. I-I." Prowl shook his helm. "I need to think."

"Okay." Jazz nodded. "Ah'll take Blaster home an' get 'im situated there. Ah'll meet ya back at our place."

Prowl didn't even nod as he rose and left the old radio station. Jazz vented as he followed in the Praxian's pedesteps and transformed outside. Both Blaster and Rewind got in and all were silent on the way back. The main reason for their silence was because Rewind had fallen asleep in Jazz's seat.

Once back at Blaster's, the red Stereo-mech slid out and carefully got out Rewind before turning back to Jazz, who was still in alt. mode.

"Heading back?" he asked in a whisper.

"Promised Prowl Ah would." Jazz stated. "Ah'll call ya in the morn- well, maybe later in noon. Ya'll probably sleep in."

Blaster chuckled and nodded. "Yeah." he turned to leave, but stopped. Jazz, who had started to roll forward, the gravel crunching beneath him, stopped. "Jazz..."

"Yeah?" Jazz pressed once the red mech fell silent.

"Will you...thank Prowl for me?" Blaster asked hopefully. "I'd tell him myself, but the way he left the radio station-"

"Ah got it." Jazz said, a bit rushed. "Ya'll go in an' get some 'charge now, ya got meh."

Blaster nodded. "Thank you too, Jazz."

"No prob." Jazz whispered as he slowly drove forward. He was tired, but doubted that he would get any sleep for the last few joors before sunrise.

By the time he reached the apartment, he was surprised to find it so quiet. Prowl couldn't be sleeping. The mech never slept, especially when on a case. He went to the cooler to get himself a cube, noticing that he was the only one who had done so since getting back.

"Jazz? That you?" a voice called down the hall.

"Yep. Jus' got back." Jazz confirmed, taking a sip of the cold cube to rouse himself to a state of semi-wakefulness.

"Come in here. Now." Prowl ordered, his voice muffled by the hall and walls.

"Where are ya?" Jazz asked, peeping into the Datsun's room.

"My office." Prowl replied.

"Ah thought I wasn' allowed in there." Jazz stated, going to the final door. A tiny slit between the door and wall allowed some light to leak through into the hallway.

"I'm inviting you in. I need your assistance." Prowl said, his voice more audible now.

Jazz slid it open manually, and stopped. The place was completely bare – no trinkets, furniture or office equipment. There were three doors in the room, one as the entrance and exit, and two in which Jazz could only guess were closets. The four walls held only magnetic chalk boards, white-erase boards, and corkboards.

Already the white erase boards were filled with multicolored scrawls, mainly names. Rewind, Blaster, Frequency, and Soundwave the most prominent with bits of information on each one. Each name had its own color, and the relevant information was colored the same. The corkboard were pinned with images Prowl had printed from his HUD, pertaining to places, maps, and bots. String connected the boards, much like the house had been originally. Instead of being tossed about, the walls contained everything and the floors nothing.

Finally Jazz turned his optics towards Prowl, who was seated in the middle of the room on the floor.

"Prowl?" Jazz asked, his hand frozen around his forgotten cube as he looked around.

"Sit down, shut up, and think." Prowl ordered, staring straight at the board in front of him.

Seating himself cross-pede to mirror Prowl, Jazz took a sip of his cube, and proceeded to analyse Prowl's visual wall-musings.

**To be continued...**

* * *

Author's Note- Big shout out. thank you to **Nikkie2010** for being such an awesome beta and making this story flow better!

Also...can somebody hum the CSI or NCIS scene switch thing? *Dun Dun Dun* How's that for a cliffy? I'll try and get the next chapter up by Friday/Saturday again (seems to becoming a regular posting time for me) but can't promise. I do have it all written out, though, and let me say...I'm actually excited! Never been excited about writing before, not like this, anyways!

Thank you to all my reviewers! Anyone want to take a shot at this? Also...anyone see the Elementary episode 'The Woman?' Can't wait for 'Heroine'! I know, I'm a bit behind...actually haven't seen the first 3 or so episodes...


	8. Chapter 8 I Don't (Friend Part 2)

**Chapter 8 Friend of My Friend Part 2 or I Don't**

* * *

Jazz vented tiredly, suppressing a yawn once again as he pinched the bridge of his olfactory sensors, rubbing it tiredly to diminish the processor ache slowly building up. He threw a sideways glance at Prowl still sitting in his contemplative posture. He had not moved once since he had ordered Jazz very unceremoniously to join him on the floor as he continued to stare at the wall neatly cluttered with facts.

Jazz debated between talking and remaining silent. He had tried saying something early, only to be told to 'Be quiet unless you have something to add to the case', with quite a few colorful words tossed in.

He cleared his throat, as loud as he dared at the moment. When Prowl never so much as flinched a doorwing, he dared to speak, barely above a whisper. "Hey, we've been in 'ere for joors, Prowler. Don' ya think it's time fer a break?"

"If you cannot handle it, leave." Prowl ordered, shifting and stretching his doorwings for a klik before settling once again crossed-pede.

"Ya need ta take a break, Prowl." Jazz stated firmly. "Ya were up all night lookin' fer Rewind, an' Ah know ya haven't fuel in Primus knows how long."

"Four orns." Prowl answered shortly. He vented sharply, swinging his helm around quickly to glare at Jazz. "Jazz, I _must _figure this out. I _need _you to be quiet. Go recharge and refuel and leave me alone." He turned back to the wall and staunchly ignored Jazz.

Jazz grumbled under his breath. He was too tired to argue right now. He wasn't used to pulling all-nighters unless it was the kind involving high-grade, music and dancing. Not the type that involved sitting in a too quiet room, Prowl's incoherent mumblings the only thing breaking joors of silence for only a few breems at a time. He vented as he rose, stretching out his lanky frame, satisfied when he heard the decisive 'click' of his armor as it popped into place. "Ah'll bring ya some 'gon when Ah wake up."

Prowl only did that incoherent mumbling thing Jazz could only believe had to do with the 'case'. Stumbling out of the room, Jazz tripped into the living room and collapsed on the couch. There was no point in messing up his berth if he was just gonna get up in a joor or two and go right back to helping Prowl out.

Less than a klik later, Jazz had fallen into a well-deserved, dreamless recharge.

* * *

He almost wished he hadn't woken up. _Almost_. He had been sleeping soundly for two joors when a sharp cramp in his tank woke him. Not eating would do that to a bot. He groaned sleepily as he staggered into the kitchen before he fell into stasis from lack of fuel. As he sipped his energon, his mind travelled to Prowl. How did Prowl manage to run like a bot possessed on _fumes?_

Once the pain in his tank had subsided and the initial sleepy fog shaken from his processor, his mind turned to the case. He felt the helm ache approach again as nothing made sense and he decided to alter his approach. So instead of focusing on the case, he focused his attention _away _from the case. Trying to get a fresh perspective, he focused on what had happened the night before. His thoughts instantly went to Blaster, and he cursed as he remembered his promise.

Taking the last swig from his cubes, he hurriedly slapped it down on the coffee table and put a hand to his comm. He bounced his pede impatiently as he waited. He had waited too long! How could he had forgotten to call Blaster? It was well past noon now, the sun was at its brightest as it prepared to start setting in a joor or so.

: Jazz? This you? : Blaster's voice questioned as the comm. was answered.

: Blaster? Hey, yeah : Jazz said quick. : Sorry Ah forgot ta-:

: Hey : Blaster chuckled. : We all had a long night, I figured you were still sleeping :

: Not exactly... : Jazz trailed off, scruubing the back of his neck with one hand.

: Something wrong? : Blaster asked, a bit of worry in his voice.

:No, no. Nothin' wrong. Jus', haven' been sleepin'. Prowl had meh up helpin' 'im with the case: Jazz explained, laying back into the cushions comfortably.

: You get any rest? : Blaster asked, sympathy thick in his voice.

: Jus' got up an' called : Jazz answered. : Prowl hasn' charged or eaten yet. Gonna try an' get 'im ta do so now :

Blaster chuckled through the line. : Prowl seems worse to handle then a bunch of younglings :

Jazz laughed breathily. : Guess so : he vented. : Ah gotta let ya go :

Jazz heard Blaster sigh in disappointment. : Are we planning another date since... :

:Definitely : Jazz agreed quickly. : But, maybe not 'til this case's done, but Ah promise we'll get a date :

: Okay : Blaster said, only to be cut off from anything further at a loud crash and shattering noise in the background. : Steeljaw, no! Don't-:

The comm. was suddenly cut off as Blaster severed the lines. Jazz chuckled as he rose to put his cube in the sink and grab another for Prowl.

"Maybe Prowl's easier than youngin's." he mused as he re-entered the study. He rapped on the open doorway sharply, alerting the Praxian of his presence. "Hey, Prowl. Ah brought ya a-"

"Get it out." Prowl demanded, not even acknowledging Jazz or looking to see what he had brought. _Then again..._crossed Jazz's helm as he stared at the overgrown sparkling sitting resolutely on the floor.

"Prowl, ya need ta eat somethin' 'fore ya keel over." Jazz argued, stepping right in front of the Praxian and blocking his view of the walls.

It was the wrong move. Prowl was on his pedes in an instant, a murderous look in his optics. "Jazz, I am going to say this only once so listen well. This case is _top priority _right now. Nothing, _nothing _is greater than it right now. Now, you can either make yourself useful and shut up, or you can leave."

It took Jazz nearly a breem to reign himself in as he stared at the furious Praxian before him. The flared wings caused Prowl's thin and paler shaded frame to look much larger and much more intimidating, while his blazing optics bore into Jazz with enough ferocity that, if looks could kill, he would be one dead mech.

Jazz thought about turning and leaving, but no sooner had the thought crossed his processor that he dismissed it. Screw this he wasn't going to be intimidated by a ticked-off, childish Praxian. Jazz stood up straight and squared his shoulders. Spreading his pedes to stand his ground, he stared Prowl right in the optic. If it had to be a stand-off, he could manage.

Prowl flared his doorwings even wider and narrowed his optics, the color darkening a shade as his gaze bore even more intensely into Jazz than before.

With a heavy vent, Jazz relented and slid the cube in subspace. He would definitively need to practice his death stare. "Fine, but if ya pass out-"

"I won't." Prowl cut him off sharply. "Have you been able to find any light in this?"

Jazz shrugged. "Ah'm more in the dark then ya are." he replied. "Ah'm still tryin' ta figure out how ya knew 'Wave took Rewind."

"Would you like to hear?" Prowl asked, sounding as if he needed a break but was reluctant to give himself one.

_Either that or too proud. _"Sure." Jazz agreed, stopping as a sudden thought crossed his processor. "But, only if ya drink the cube while ya tell meh."

Prowl's optics furrowed sharply. "Then both of us will have to go without."

Jazz growled audibly. "Jus' what's yer prejudice 'gainst eatin'? With tha' fancy processor o' yers Ah'd think ya would know more about bein' healthy an' all tha'."

"Eating slows me down." Prowl answered. "Without energon, my processor can focus entirely on the case. If I eat, it now has to deal with digestion and my attention is unintentionally diverted and divided."

In a strange, twisted way, that made sense. In the same sense, it also didn't. The Praxian had seated himself once again, ready to continue with or without his break.

With an exasperated vent, Jazz sat down next to him. He would take the younglings any day.

"How'd ya know it was 'Wave?" Jazz asked sullenly after two breems of silence.

Prowl pivoted on his rear, turning from the wall to the other bot. "It was actually quite simple, Jazz."

Jazz rolled his optics. "Then how come Ah still don' get it?"

"Simple." Prowl replied. "You don't allow yourself to see the obvious. Anyways, the case was rather simple as all the pieces to the puzzle were right there. You had your motive – poor ratings for a broadcasting radio network, blame-shifting, and finally ending in the collapse of the radio show."

Jazz nodded. "'Kay, Ah get tha'. 'Wave wanted ta make Blaster squirm, but how'd ya _know _it was Soundwave?"

"For a mech semi-similar in processor skills, Soundwave is no detective, he is terrible at covering his tracks. He brought his cassettes with him. Rumble and Frenzy, Ravage and Laserbeak accompanied him out of his cassette holder. Ravage, being a feloinoid and having paws, left his own small tracks about. Laserbeak had perched himself on the fense, but somehow managed to scrape some of his paint on it." Prowl explained, easily going through the details.

"So, the paint on the fence gave it away..." Jazz thought it over. Why did everything make so much sense only _after _it was explained? All the clues had been there, out in the open, yet it took one extraordinary mind to piece them all together.

Prowl shook his helm, as if reading Jazz's thoughts. "What remains is larger than a missing youngling. Somebot knew about Soundwave, someone knew where he was going to be, and was _prepared_."

"Prepared?" Jazz echoed, prying for more info.

"He knew enough to carry heavy steel wire, a kind used frequently by certain crooks to bind their victims without leaving a mark." Prowl stated. He motioned to a piece of wire hanging from the magnetized board, all on its own. "He was planning this. He has a very strong motive to have been this prepared."

Jazz nodded. "So, somebot had it out for 'Wave the same way 'e had it out for Blaster."

Prowl nodded. His brow furrowed. "Jazz, is Blaster at home?"

"As far as Ah know." Jazz stated. "Ah commed 'im jus' a klik ago."

Prowl nodded. "Would you mind running an errand for me?"

Jazz looked wary. "What kind of errand? Ah an't gettin' ya more chemicals. Not after last time."

Prowl suppressed a shudder. "Go to Blaster's and see if he has any holo-pics of Soundwave."

"Can't ya jus' comm. 'im an' have 'im send ya one through a pad?" Jazz asked.

"Yes..." Prowl stated hesitantly. His doorwings twitched a bit before he could stop them, and a slightly sheepish and embarrassed look appeared in his optics, though just barely noticeable.

Jazz chuckled a bit, laying a hand heavily on Prowl's shoulder. Prowl looked uncomfortable at Jazz's touch, and even went as far as to shrug it off. Jazz easily left it there, despite the fact it was not coming in as 'comforting' as he had wanted it to be.

"Prowl, ya know Blaster ain't mad at ya anymore, righ'?" Jazz asked, trying hard not to laugh at Prowl's social innocence. "'E forgave the klik ya started workin' on 'is case."

Prowl looked at Jazz oddly, as if finding the fact hard to believe. He shook his helm and Jazz's hand of simultaneously. "That may be, but I figure it would mean more coming from you. Also, it might put Blaster's processor at ease if you show up, even for a short visit. Besides, do you really want to turn down a chance to see your mate-to-be?"

Jazz's once comforting hand slapped Prowl sharply on the doorwing. Prowl flinched at the contact and flicked his wing away from the glaring Polyhexian.

"Blaster ain't mah mate."

Jazz rose to leave, needing that visit to Blaster's now. He grumbled as Prowl called out to him in his matter-of-fact-way from the room. "Yet."

* * *

"Thanks." Jazz said again as he subspaced the two holocubes Blaster handed him.

"Those are the clearest shots I got." Blaster stated, holding a small Rewind to his chassis as if letting go would cause the youngling to disappear again.

"Ah'm sure Prowl will make the best of 'em." Jazz promised. He looked a bit sheepish a moment as he eyed Blaster. "Erm...is it too early ta-"

"No, go ahead." Blaster encouraged.

Leaning in quickly, Jazz planted a kiss on the red mech's cheek. The red mech reddened more, mimicking Jazz own face at a giggle behind the sofa.

"Eject-" Blaster began as he spotted the two younglings peeping from behind the sofa.

There was a slight scramble, and two figures took off. One on two legs, the other a quadrapede in gold.

Jazz chuckled. "Be seein' ya."

Blaster nodded, and waved from the window as Jazz took off back down the street. A quiet drive back looked nice, as he had some romanticised thoughts that needed sorting through.

* * *

Jazz wished that he could step right back into the hall after entering the apartment. Maybe if he opened and closed the doors again, the room would have been the same as it was when he had left it.

"Pr-owl!" Jazz drawled out in a raised voice. "Where's the table?"

"Which one?" Prowl called back from his office.

Jazz growled, looking at the bare spot and imprinted carpet where the coffee table had once been. "What the frag do ya mean 'which one'? Ah'm talking about the one that's missin'!"

"I'm using it." A disembodied voice drifted coolly through the apartment.

Jazz cursed inwardly and marched towards the office. He slid the door open and stepped in, finding the poor victim of Prowl's attention. Prowl was currently hunched over the missing table, images and files scattered about on it in a way that seemed utterly chaotic, but yet in some way formed a pattern that was despairingly easy for the Praxian to find.

"Why did ya move the table in 'ere?" Jazz asked, shaking his helm.

"I needed it." Prowl stated, glancing up from his papers with a look that said 'isn't it obvious?'

Jazz exhaled loudly as he reached into his subspace and tossed the two, black holo-cubes Blaster had given him onto the table. "Ya wanted pictures of 'Wave, right?"

Prowl grabbed at the first cube and onlined it. A three dimensional yet still rather flat image of Blaster, Soundwave, and a few other mechs posing in front of the soon-to-be opened radio station. It looked newly painted and primed, and all that was needed was the door unlocked and the first broadcast sent out.

Prowl pressed a button on the holo-cube, zooming in only on the frame of Soundwave. Jazz took the time Prowl used in studying the Stereo-mech's features in taking in the new intel Prowl had gathered. Newly acquired police records lay open on the table, displaying the mech's criminal history. Soundwave had multiple warnings of harassment against him, but nothing as big as kidnapping, until now.

"Got those sent via pad from the station." Prowl murmured before Jazz could even think of asking.

Jazz nodded as he took up an onlined file. Info on Soundwave's past, his late bondmate, and his younglings. Not really much more then what Prowl had said earlier.

"Jazz." Prowl drew the other mech from his own musings as he zoomed in much more, so much so that the image was very blurred and pixilated. A slender digit pointed out at a smudge on the blue wrist. "What do you make of that?"

Jazz cocked an optic ridge. "Nothin'. The image is too screwed up."

Prowl reduced the zoom until the picture was fairly distinguishable, scoffing under his breath at Jazz being incapable of seeing it. "How about now?" He asked slightly irritated.

Jazz leaned in closer, studying the image. It was slightly better. The wrist was more distinguishable, and a blue-gray smudge was just barely visible on his wrist.

"See it _now_?" Prowl asked, pointing at it so that Jazz couldn't miss it even if he tried.

"Yeah...looks like 'Wave was a bit of a rebel as a youngin'." Jazz stated with a smirk. "Odd, wouldn't put 'im on the bad-boy kinda personality."

"What?" Prowl asked, looking as if he had been lost at 'rebel'.

"Soundwave got a tattoo." Jazz explained, once again trying not to laugh.

"Yes, but how is that rebellious?" Prowl asked, his optics narrowed as he tried to put the pieces together.

Jazz looked as if he were about to explain, but decided against it. Prowl would most likely label it as 'Unnecessary information' and delete it in anyway. "Never mind. What are _you _tryin' ta get at?"

"Soundwave is a member of a cult." Prowl stated firmly. "_Fratres Fraudis_, to be exact."

"An ya get tha'..." Jazz trailed off, inviting Prowl to fill in the blanks.

"Because, members of this certain cult tattoo underneath their wrist armor the certain monograph of their group." Prowl stated. "There is only part of his marking visible as his wrist is at an angle."

Jazz nodded. "Ah've heard of them...they're a pretty quiet bunch."

"Except for when they are terrorizing those outside of their group." Prowl stated firmly.

"Blaster?" Jazz asked, it suddenly dawning on him that Soundwave might have had a second motive.

Prowl nodded. "Most likely. From the looks of this tattoo, it's right around the time Blaster's bondmate offlined. The station only lasted a few groons, then Soundwave started his harassments, leading to Blaster's mate offlining. Which, mind you, nobot knows why or where."

Jazz's helm bobbed as he thought. He shook his helm. "So now we gotta figure out both what happened ta Blaster's mate, an' why Soundwave was already caught."

Prowl gave a nod. He rose quite suddenly. "Jazz, are you up for another drive?"

The Polyhexian shrugged his shoulder. "Where to?"

"Blaster's." Prowl answered simply, already heading to the door.

Jazz deadpanned. "Again? Ah jus' came back from-"

"I would like to see Blaster myself. If you don't want to come-"

"No, Ah'm comin' with." Jazz interrupted quickly, leaping to his pedes.

"Good." Prowl stated before disappearing into the hall.

Jazz went to follow, only to stop. He heard the front door slide open, but never close in Prowl's haste to leave. "Hey! Aren't ya gonna put the table back?" no answer. "Prowl?" Jazz sighed heavily as he took off to follow. Prowl was already halfway down the building, the table would have to wait.

* * *

Blaster looked surprised as he looked out his window to see who was knocking. Jazz looked apologetic and shrugged a shoulder as Prowl knocked harder still.

"Jazz? What are you doing here again? Were the pictures-"

"The pictures were fine. Very informative." Prowl stated before Blaster could continue. "I wanted to ask you some questions. About your late bondmate."

Blaster scowled a bit. "Haven't we been over this?"

"No." Prowl said shortly. He eyed the curious younglings gathered about. "If you don't wish for them" he motioned at the younglings with his helm. "to overhear, I suggest you send them away."

Blaster grumbled to himself as he sent his creations outside to play. He seated himself on the couch, Jazz next to him. Prowl took the chair as the final option, his doorwings sticking straight up due to its rather high back. Blaster looked uneasy as Prowl shifted, either from unease himself of the fact that his doorwings were uncomfortable, the red mech couldn't tell.

"Blaster..." Prowl started slowly, carefully picking his words. He swallowed once, trying to remove the lump in his throat. "I have a tendency to be blunt. If you believe I am getting out of hand, please have Jazz tell me."

"Just Jazz?" Blaster asked, an optic ridge cocked in possible amusement.

Prowl gave a single nod. "I'm more inclined to listen to him, I also would like to stay dry."

Blaster couldn't even find words to say as he turned towards Jazz. Jazz shrugged, unable to make out what Prowl meant.

"It is obvious that discussing Frequency is a sensitive subject for you." Prowl explained, seeming to lean away from the sofa as he spoke. "The last time we discussed him in private, I ended up coated in your energon."

Jazz stifled a snort as Blaster bit his bottom lip, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. "I-I'm sorry about that." he choked out.

Prowl scowled. "I'm still sticky."

"What?" Blaster looked at the Praxian's frame. It did seem a bit blue in the white parts and gleamed the way a youngling's hands did after eating an energon goodie. "H-haven't you washed yet?" he asked, trying not to laugh.

Prowl shook his helm. Blaster looked a bit apologetic after that, but still snickered with Jazz every time the chair stuck to the Praxian's sticky doorwings and back.

"Don't worry." Blaster stated, smirking broadly. "I don't have anything to throw at you here."

Prowl looked about, noticing a good many items that would make very good weapons in a pinch. He shook away those thoughts, filing them away in as 'Semi-Important' section in his processor.

"Blaster, would it be too invasive to ask what Frequency did?" Prowl asked.

Blaster shook his helm. "Nope. I'm pretty sure he was some kind of Enforcer long before we were bonded."

"Enforcer?" Jazz asked, intrigued.

Blaster nodded. "Yeah, never talked about it much. By the time I met him, though, he was a factory worker."

"Where?" Prowl asked simply. His processor instantly pulled up all the factories within the tri-state area they could try and track this mech down to.

He instantly hit delete as Blaster shrugged. "Not sure...he never talked about his job much."

"So...ya have no clue what he really did?" Jazz stated more then asked, looking at the red mech.

Blaster nodded, looking a bit sheepish. "I know he wasn't into any kind of gang or mafia or anything, but I never really knew what he did. He just said factory, never what kind."

Jazz placed a hand on the red mech's shoulder as Blaster hung his helm. "It's alrigh'."

"Do you have an image of Frequency you might be able to part with? At least for a little while?" Prowl asked.

Blaster nodded and opened his subspace. He took out a very small holo-cube, and hesitated. Prowl growled in frustration, but stopped after a warning look from Jazz. He vented softly.

"If...this is something you can't-" he started awkwardly, thankful when Blaster thrust the cube out in the end. "Thank you."

"I want that back when you're done with it." Blaster stated firmly.

"Ah'll make sure we get it back as soon as we can." Jazz promised. Blaster looked relieved.

"Is that all you need?" he asked, looking at the sticky Praxian. "Besides a bath?"

Prowl scowled and rose. "I think we're good. Are you coming, Jazz?"

"Yeah, why not?" Jazz asked, eyeing the Praxian warily.

"I just thought that you would want to spend some time with your mate to be." Prowl stated as he headed for the door. Jazz sputtered as it slid open. "I'll be at the road when you've finished your 'good-byes'."

Jazz buried his red face in his hands as the door slid closed. He never moved, never spoke, until Blaster broke the silence.

"Mate-to-be?" he asked, his voice sounding both intrigued and amused. "Just what have you been telling him?"

"Blaster, I-I-" Jazz stammered, quickly turning to the Stereo-mech. "He's convinced himself that you and me- I mean, me and you are-" Jazz shook his helm, stuttering as his processor failed him. "What do you think?"

Blaster looked a bit surprised. "What do _I _think about... you and me...um-"

"Bonding?" Jazz finished and hung his helm. He sounded a bit depressed that Blaster seemed to think negatively about the idea.

"I think, I might like the idea." Blaster whispered, causing the Polyhexian to look back up. Blaster was a good deal closer than he had been just a klik ago, and now their helms were coming closer. Their optics were shuttering, and they could feel the other's breath. They jerked back after a hard pound on the window that shook the very glass in their panes.

Jazz growled as Prowl left the outer window. "Guess Ah gotta go."

Blaster nodded as he bit his bottom lip. "See ya around."

Grumbling to himself, Jazz keyed open the door and left. Blaster vented and went to sweep up the latest mess.

* * *

"Where are we headin', again?" Jazz asked, earning a huff from the Praxian he was walking beside. When does Prowl have the right to be upset, after embarrassing Jazz like that?

"The _station_." Prowl announced, firmly resolved not to answer Jazz if the mech asked again. He was just doing it to be an aft.

"Why?" Jazz asked coolly, smirking in defiance.

Prowl threw his hands up. "For Primus!- Fine, we are going to the station to dig up more information an Frequency. Need I say it again?" he asked with a withering, warning look.

Jazz shook his helm, not at all bothered. "Nope. Ah think Ah got it now."

"Good." Prowl huffed, stepping through an automatic door. "Here is where we split up."

Jazz hummed in confusion. "Ah thought Ah was supposed ta be helpin' ya."

"You will be. I want you to go search through old files, ones belonging to the Enforcers about ex-servers. I will be spending my time elsewhere, searching for Frequency in factory employee logs." Prowl stated. "If you find anything on Frequency in the Enforcers, comm. me."

"'Kay." Jazz nodded. "Jus' Enforcers?"

"If those don't bring anything up, then move up to Secret Services and the like." Prowl vented, sounding as if it were common knowledge. With a grace only Prowl would have, slightly cloddy and seeming to nearly collide with everything, he hurried off down the hall, leaving Jazz alone.

"Well...might as well get to it." Jazz murmured to himself as he headed towards the room he had been designated to. Usually, he wouldn't leave Prowl alone in a public place, not so soon after his withdrawal, but what was he going to do at the police station?

Jazz seated himself in a rolling, rotating chair and turned on a high-tech computer monitor. The screen lit up instantly, its neon blue and white lights reflecting off of the Polyhexian's visor. He started with the most straight-forward, simple logs: the Enforcer logs. He clicked the search engine and typed in the name.

'Frequency'

Easy enough. He pressed enter, and waited. A little circle appeared in the center of the screen, and spun around and around as it searched and loaded. Five breems passed, and the computer was still searching.

With a heavy vent, he leaned back in the chair. Soon, he was reduced to spinning it in complete boredom.

"This is searching?" a sharp voice asked from behind him, causing Jazz to slap his pedes on the ground. The room spun around, making him lightheaded and dizzy, but a very ticked off Praxian was just visible in the open doorway.

"I should have simply done this myself." Prowl huffed as he crossed the room and pushed Jazz's chair out of the way.

"It's still loadin'." Jaz argued, visor narrowing a bit. "Jus' what was Ah supposed ta do?"

"Start another search on another monitor, perhaps?" Prowl asked, pressing enter once again. The screen quickly resembled the first, but loaded in less than a breem.

"There." Prowl pointed out the single found entry. "Frequency." he scrolled over to it, and clicked. A red bar appeared across the screen, and a demanded password warning appeared. "Slag."

"Tha's Secret Service, Prowl!" Jazz exclaimed with a roll of his optics. "O' course it's gonna be protected!"

Prowl's brow furrowed and his optics shuttered. They sprang open the next klik, and his digits flew across the holographic keyboard as little stars appeared in place of the glyphs. He pressed enter, and the bar flashed from red to green before disappearing.

Jazz turned towards Prowl, optics scrutinizing the other harshly. "What did you do?"

"I opened it." Prowl stated simply, rolling down the page and sorting through the information.

"Wi' what password?" Jazz asked, sounding very much like a reprimanding mother to a small child.

"Classified."

"Prowl!-" Jazz exclaimed, ready to shove the other mech away from the computer screen. Prowl easily avoided him, and remained unmoved.

"Look." Prowl suddenly said, pointing at the screen. "This says that Frequency was given a mission, right before he offlined."

"Tha' don' add up." Jazz mused, forgetting about beating up Prowl to look at the classified information. "Blaster said tha' 'e was a factory worker 'bout tha' time. Ya sure ya got the righ' mech?"

"I was unable to find him at any companies within the tri-state area, and even beyond that." Prowl answered. He hummed to himself as he straightened, bouncing on his pedes as he was accustomed to do when thinking or piecing things together. "Jazz, go to Blaster's."

"Again?" Jazz snorted. "Seriously, why don' we jus' move in'? It'll be ea-"

"I'll meet you there." Prowl interrupted, turning and quickly leaving Jazz alone once again.

"Hey, Prowl, where ya goin'?" Jazz called after him. The Praxian kept on walking. "Ya can't go off by yourse-ah, forget it." he vented at the doorwinger turned a hall and disappeared. "Fraggin' aft, makin' mah life difficult."

No point in dawdling. He sent a comm. ahead to a rather surprised but thankfully understanding Blaster. The red mech had been inclined to agree with him. Moving in would be easier.

* * *

Jazz bounced his pede and looked over at Blaster, who was currently cleaning up an art project gone wrong. The paint had ended up on more than the cardboard, and instead evenly coated the table, chairs, floors, and even the walls in small pede and paw prints. Jazz was still indecisive of what was easier: Prowl or younglings.

"Need some 'elp?" Jazz offered, smirking as Blaster scrubbed a particularly stubborn blob of blue.

"Nah, I got this." Blaster grunted, pleased when the floor finally showed again. "I don't know why I ever give them paint."

Jazz chuckled, looking out the window at the younglings currently kicking a ball around. Maybe... kids were easier than Prowl. Sure, they made messes, but paint was easier and _safer _than cleaning up toxic chemicals of only Primus knew what. Kids were high maintenance and needed a lot of attention, but Prowl needed that and he was an adult- or that's the assumption Jazz was under. Also, kids didn't keep odd specimens in the fridge to experiment on and study.

Jazz nodded as he made his decision. Kids were definitely lower maintenance than Prowl. It was funny, when thinking of kids his mind would always go to Blaster's. The same with think about a bondmate; his processor would go to Blaster. Prowl was right, Jazz wanted Blaster as his mate. Just not immediately.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sharp pounding on the door. It slid open, revealing two mechs standing at the door.

Blaster gasped as he dropped the cleaning rags he had mean to dispose, his hand covering his mouth as he stared wide-opticed at the two mechs, before abruptly fainting.

Jazz grabbed Blaster before his frame hit the floor and carried him to the sofa before turning to the newcomers, visor glinting dangerously. He opened his mouth to ask exactly what a smug-looking Prowl was thinking when Blaster regained consciousness.

"Sit down." Jazz ordered as he gently pushed the red mech back down on the sofa.

Blaster shook his head and pushed Jazz aside, optics glued to the sunshine yellow and orange mech standing in the middle of the room, optics equally glued on Blaster.

"N-no." Blaster stuttered as he shook his helm, fighting back tears. "Freq?"

"Blaster." the yellow mech vented and dropped his optics to the floor. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry for what I put you through."

Jazz felt his spark sink as Blaster pushed up from the couch and rushed towards the yellow mech, launched himself into a sparkfelt embrace which the other vigorously returned.

"Ho-, why?" Blaster choked, his face buried in Frequency's shoulder, warm and wet with tears.

"Why don't we all sit down and Frequency can explain it then?" Prowl suggested, already seated on the awkward high-back chair he had been seated in earlier, lifting his doorwings high once again as he tried, and miserably failed, to be comfortable in the Primus-damned chair.

Jazz stood next to the sofa, dumbstruck by everything he was seeing. "Yeah." Jazz seconded, not sure what else to say or what else to do.

Blaster pulled Frequency towards the sofa and sat down next to his 'late' mate, all the time clinging to Frequency's hand as if afraid that, if he let him go for once second, he would disappear again.

Jazz grimaced inwardly as he felt his spark split. He pulled a chair from the table and set it next to Prowl, feeling thoroughly awkward to even be in the same room as Blaster, not to mention the pain in his spark as he watched Blaster dote upon Frequency.

Frequency vented and shook his helm as he looked at Blaster. "I don't-I don't even know where to begin."

"How about your on-going role in the Secret Service?" Prowl suggested.

Frequency nodded as Blaster murmured the question, confusion plain over his face. "Prowl's right. I am, and have always been part of the SS."

"But, you said you were an Enforcer. And a-a factory worker." Blaster started slowly, taking careful vents to keep himself level headed as different emotions started to war within him now that the initial shock had worn away.

"I was an Enforcer, of sorts." Frequency explained. "And a factory worker, it was my cover."

"So, you lied to me." Blaster stated, not sure whether to be furious that he had been lied to, glad that his mate was alive, thankful that Primus had granted them another chance. Everything was simply too much at the moment.

Frequency extracted his hand from Blasters and embraced him, pulling the numb mech closer to his shoulder. "I didn't want to, Blaster. I wouldn't have if I didn't have to. You have to believe me."

Blaster was silent for a whole breem before nodding shakily. "I-I do." He said, sounding unsure of himself. "But, you offlined. I felt you. I-I nearly lost Eject, and Rewind was-"

"I know." Frequency nodded quickly, a pained look in his optics. "It was also part of my cover. I can't tell you everything, but what I can tell you I will. I was part of a team tracking _Fratres Fraudis_. It was getting dangerous for civilians, though, especially when you got involved with them."

"Me?" Blaster asked, a slightly trembling digit pressed to his chassis. "I've never been part of a gang."

"No, no." Frequency comforted. "Not you, Soundwave. That radio station was more than an afternoon talk-show. There were embedded messages in it for other members of this group, and-"

Prowl snapped his fingers. "That's what the station was for. I had a hunch, but no evidence."

Frequency nodded, furrowing his optic ridges at the odd Praxian sitting in Blaster's living room. "Yes, and since Blaster was the one speaking, it put him at higher risk. When the rating went down, he, naturally, was blamed for the loss of listeners both civilian and gangster alike."

"The loss of the gangsters would have done little in the ratings." Prowl pointed out. "It was the loss of the civilian listeners that lost the radio station."

Frequency hummed, accepting the correction. "They wanted to hurt you, Blaster. The only way to stop them, was to follow them and track them nonstop. I could only do so much posing as a civilian, though. My squad leader...ordered that my side of the bond was d-dissolved."

Blaster turned chocked optics up to Frequency, his mouth opening a few times, but no words came out. He gently extracted himself from Frequency's grip, ignoring the pained expression that flitted across his face.

Jazz sucked in a bit of air. "So...ya never offlined."

Frequency shook his helm. "I would have rather died than put Blaster and the creations through all that, but-"

"You had no choice." Jazz finished, sullenly as he folded his hands together.

Frequency nodded in agreement. "I learned what they wanted to do to Blaster for losing the station. They wanted to get him indirectly, kidnap Rewind. I intercepted Soundwave, the designated kidnapper due to his own younglings, and restrained him. I knew that there were Enforcers already being sent." he smirked. "I have to admit, I was surprised when you showed up. I had no idea that Blaster would go as far as to call a detective."

"Blaster didn't call me, Jazz did." Prowl cleared up. "He and Blaster were out on a date when this happened, and Jazz, my roommate, called me to help. He's an Enforcer himself."

Frequency nodded, turning to the Polyhexian. "Date?"

Of course, trust Prowl to make things exponentially more awkward than it already was. "Uh..." Jazz ventured as he rubbed the side of his olfactory nervously. "Yeah, 'bout tha'. Ya see-"

Frequency smiled half-sparkedly and held up his hand. "I completely understand. It's only natural that Blaster would begin dating again after I…offlined, per say. I won't fault you." He hesitated as he turned to Blaster, who was staring at the garden where the younglings were playing, blissfully unaware of what was happening inside with the adults.

Frequency took Blaster's hand again and waited for the red mech to face him. "Blaster, I understand if you want to keep things as they are. I have no right to barge into your lives after I…I left. But I would like to have another chance."

Blaster stared at Frequency for a long time before turning rueful optics to Jazz, half-pleading, half-accepting.

Jazz smirked, although it wasn't the usual care-free smile he always had. "'Ah understand."

Blaster turned his optics back to Frequency. "I can't promise it will go smooth, but I'm willing to give it another chance. But don't you dare screw this one up." Blaster whispered fiercely as tears filled his optics.

"Thank-you." Frequency smiled softly, pulling Blaster into him. "The kids here?"

"Backyard." Blaster stated, then sat up. "I want to know something, though."

"Yeah?" Jazz encouraged, still a bit sullen.

"How did Prowl find Freq?" Blaster asked, turning towards the Praxian.

Prowl shrugged as he once again shifted to accommodate his sensory appendages. "I know a bot in Secret Service that owed me a favor. I simply used it to get information. Led me right to him."

Blaster nodded. "I see. How can I-we" he corrected, taking Frequency's hand in his own. "Ever repay you?"

Jazz's optic ridges rose a bit, but went unnoticed. Prowl, one of the most self-centered mechs Jazz had ever met, was being asked what he wanted for a large favor? This wasn't going to end well.

The look on Jazz's face was priceless as Prowl shook his helm and stood up. "Nothing."

Three sets of faces stared flabbergasted at him.

"There must be something-" Frequency started at last, but stopped as Prowl lifted a hand.

"Just stay in touch." Prowl stated. "That's all."

"We will." Blaster promised. He tugged on his yellow mate's hand and started to lead him towards the back door. There were squeals and laughter piercing the air not even a klik later.

"Jazz." Prowl leaned over in a lowered voice. "I think this is our cue to leave."

Jazz nodded, downcast. He rose without a word and followed the Praxian out. He was surprised when Prowl took to the sidewalk instead of the road, but didn't argue. He needed the walk.

* * *

Jazz smirked, inwardly at least, as a cube of high grade was set before him, on the recently replaced, clutter-free table. Prowl took a seat in his own comfortable armchair, venting softly as the chair accommodated his doorwings. He stared at Jazz as he took a few sips of mid-grade before setting it down next to Jazz's untouched high-grade.

"Jazz..." he started slowly, awkwardly. This was most certainly not his forte. "I know that you had...feelings for Blaster. I know that this twist in events has been..." he paused, frowning as he tried to figure out what to say. "Awkward? Yes, awkward. I wanted you to know that if you wanted to talk, that I... I can listen."

Unable to take it anymore, Jazz burst out with a snorted laugh. Prowl's doorwings sagged a bit.

"Hey, Ah ain't makin' fun o' ya." Jazz said between snorts. "It's all righ', though, Ah don' need ta talk 'bout this. Jus' glad Blaster's happy."

Prowl looked relieved, and even vented out to show so. "Good. About Blaster being happy, I mean." he added quickly when Jazz shot him another humored look. "But, I do understand."

"Yeah?" Jazz asked, taking up the cube of high grade and taking a sip. He needed it. "How's so?"

"I knew a femme once." Prowl admitted, suddenly looking very uncomfortable in his plush chair.

"Yeah? Who?" the Polihexian pressed, taking another swig. "Was she pretty?"

Silence filled the room as Prowl stared at a spot on the wall.

"Gorgeous." He finally whispered. Jazz stopped in mid-sip and lifted a questioning ridge as he glanced at the Praxian. He'd never seen Prowl look distraught before, or so lost. The Praxian vented heavily as he rose from his seat, leaving his half-empty cube table.

"Ya okay?" Jazz dared to ask the retreating Praxian as he set his cube down on the table, prepared to go after him if he had to.

He received no answer except for the finality of a closing door. Jazz shook his head as he picked up his cube again. He sat back, sipping his cube of high grade, lost in a haze of what could have been, but never will be.

* * *

Author's Note- How's that? That mystery enough for ya'? Don't worry, more where that came from! Also, this was inspired by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's very own original Sherlock Holmes story 'The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor' Thank you to all my reviewers!

Shout out to the most amazing beta ever **Nikkie2010**, who without this story would still be in the gutter.

Also, just a warning, some of the following chapters may be rather similar to the ABC (I think) show 'Elementary; in which this fic was named after (I DO NOT OWN TRANFORMERS NOR SHERLOCK/ELEMENTARY/DOYLE!). Only the in-depth Prowl stuff, though. The mysteries I will try and make up myself. :)

_Fratres Fraudis_, loosely translated, means Brothers of Deceit (Fraud)

_Slan_!


	9. Chapter 9 Infamous Returns

**Chapter 9 Infamous Return or Demons Inside of Me**

* * *

Emotions ripped through Jazz as he threw himself prostrate on the floor. Chief among them fear, confusion, and shock. Acid pellets whizzed by his helm and hit the wall, just ten astro-feet away from where he had been standing when the shooting started. Just as suddenly as it had started, it stopped without any warning.

"Jazz?" Prowl asked lazily, lowering his weapon. "I thought you were out."

"Ah was!" Jazz exclaimed, unsure if it was safe and if he wanted to rise. "But Ah came 'ome! Jus' what do ya think yer doin'? Don't ya look 'fore ya shoot?" he demanded, rambling on in anger instead of allowing Prowl time to answer.

Prowl scoffed. "Of course I do. I was aimed well away from you. In fact, I was aiming as far away from you as I could."

A tense, reflective silence settled in the room before Jazz spoke. "What were ya aimin at?" He demanded, seething as he stood to his pedes.

Prowl shrugged and motioned with his gun. "Just the bit of wall, over there."

"An' w_hy _would ya do tha'?" Jazz asked, crossing his servos across his chassis and tapping his pede.

"I was testing a muffling device I made. It was supposed to stifle the sound of the weapon." his doorwings dipped low. "Apparently, it didn't work."

"Ah should say so." Jazz huffed. He thrust his hand out, silently ordering Prowl to give him the gun.

"Jazz-"

"Now." Jazz ordered, beckoning with his outstretched hand.

Prowl slapped the butt of the pistol into Jazz's hand with a defiant huff of air. "Fine. I have more where that came from."

Prowl turned and disappeared, storming into his office. The door was left open regularly now, possibly now that Jazz was working near full time as his associate. As of late, Prowl was spending a good deal of time in there, and Jazz kept his distance out of respect and a lack of personal curiosity.

With a heavy vent, Jazz turned to inspect the damage done to the wall. Thankfully, the pellets had only travelled half-way through the wall, and had left a rather amusing pattern where the acid had eaten their way through the metal. Jazz smirked, despite himself, at the slightly smoking smiley face patterned into the wall.

"There ain't no way that's gonna be painted over." Jazz sighed as he laid the gun on the counter. He started to head towards the cooler, in bad need of a strong drink, when he was interrupted by his comm.

: Jazz 'ere : he answered automatically.

: This is Station. You and Prowl are needed at HQ. Urgently :

: All righty : Jazz replied before shutting off his comm. "Prowl-"

"I received the message." Prowl called out calmly, his voice still from his office.

Jazz vented as he headed towards it. Just what was he still doing in there? Prowl was usually out the door and half-way out the building before his hand even left his comm. "We gotta head to the station."

"I know." Prowl returned, voice elevated in irritation at being interrupted once again.

"Then why-" Jazz stopped as he looked into Prowl's office room. The room, recently cleared off all of the items from the last case, was completely bare. "Prowl?"

"In here." the Praxian called out from one of the two closets.

"What are ya doin'-" Jazz stopped again after keying open the closet. Instead of finding the Praxian closed up tight, he was instead seen in a rather spacious room. "Prowl?"

"What?" the mech asked, back turned as he hunched slightly over a long counter. He was surrounded by an assortment of equipment, ranging from gadgets Jazz had never seen, to liquids of various colors bubbling angrily in containers as the burners steamed beneath them.

"What are ya doin?" Jazz asked, nearing him. "An' why did ya never tell meh 'bout the spare room?"

"You never asked." Prowl stated nonchalantly, adding a dropper of something silvery blue into the pot. "And this," Prowl motioned to the pot, "is a sorry attempt at the art of horticulture."

"Ah don' think it looks all tha' bad." Jazz stated confidently, observing the single bit of crystal that germinated in the very center. "Tha' from the shard?"

Prowl nodded, adding one more drop to the base of the purple, black, and yellow crystal pushing itself up. Without a word, he set the dropper aside and left.

"Where ya goin'?" Jazz called out, shutting the light off behind him.

"We have to go to the station." Prowl vented. Jazz would never be a good detective if he never paid attention.

"Oh, righ'." Jazz slapped his forehead as he caught up to the Praxian. "Stairs?"

"As always." Prowl nodded, going right be the elevator without a second thought.

* * *

Jazz shook his helm as he looked about the tiny apartment they had been taken to. A large pool of life-giving energon carpeted the hard floor. He felt his tanks churn a bit, just from the quantity of it.

"All tha' from one bot?" he asked lowly.

Station nodded, his green and white colors highlighted by the strong, artificial light above them. "The boys down at the lab say so. All 16 gallons of it."

"How'd all tha' get out?" Jazz asked, his visored optics fixated on it.

Prowl did not say a word as he walked around the perimeter of the energon before crouching down. He rubbed at his cheek a moment before letting both his hands dangle between his pedes.

"Prowl?" Jazz asked, noticing the slightly odd behavior. The Praxian always loved a moment to dazzle others with his deductions. He was never quiet on a case, unless thinking hard.

"He was hung upside down." Prowl stated and ignoring Jazz. "His throat was slit as he was dangled by his pedes. His spark would not have faded until every last drop was out of him."

Jazz shuddered. His optics fixated themselves on Prowl. "How'd ya deduce tha'?"

"I didn't." Prowl vented. "I know who did it."

"Good, who?" Station asked firmly, glad that he might get home tonight at a reasonable joor.

"I don't know." Prowl said just as calmly. "I know him by his dastardly reputation only. I tracked this mech through Praxus during my early vorns as a detective, when I was still new to the game. He's killed over ten bots the same way, ranging from youngling to the elderly. I've tracked him since the beginning of this psychopath's beginnings.

Station grunted. "Good for you, but that doesn't help me any."

"I know this bots name." Prowl stated, turning his back to Jazz and Station as he scanned the walls.

"So, that'll make it a bit easier to find him." Station mused.

"No." Prowl continued searching the walls. "I know only his initial, and even that could still be a pseudonym."

Station vented heavily. "And?"

Prowl stopped, kneeling once more. His slender digit extended, pointing at a mark close to the floorboard and scratched roughly.

There, scraped with what seemed to be a claw or knife, showed a single letter 'M'.

* * *

Jazz said nothing as he sat on Prowl's desk, the one within the rarely used office back at the station. He vented, the pregnant silence having gone on for much too long.

"So... ya know this mech?" Jazz asked.

"Reputation only." Prowl replied, leaned back in his seat, optics closed, steepled digits pressed to his lips.

"Ya tracked 'im through Praxus." Jazz went on, remembering from earlier that afternoon. "Ah didn' know ya lived in Praxus."

"I wasn't born there, but moved there after leaving my brother's guardianship." Prowl half mumbled as his mind was elsewhere. "Moved back later on."

Jazz just nodded. He hummed a bit in thought, a lazy feeling about the room as Prowl's optics closed in thought. "So...ya know nothin' 'bout this mech other than a few murders an' his initial."

Prowl vented slowly, slightly forced and controlled. "I know a bit more than that."

Jazz pivoted on his seat, now fully facing the overly relaxed Praxian. "Wha'? Shouldn't Station know, then?"

Prowl shook his helm, taking another slow breath. "The fact is irrelevant to _this _case."

"Only this one?" Jazz questioned. He rolled his stiff neck a bit and rotated his shoulder. They'd been in here quite a while and he was becoming bored.

"The 'fact' I am withholding is not relevant to any case but my own." Prowl replied, taking a deep breath and sitting forward before releasing. Jazz looked at him, eager for more information. "What?"

"Aren't ya gonna tell meh?" the Polyhexian pressed. He scowled as Prowl shook his helm. "Com'mon! Why not?"

"Because you would not understand." Prowl snapped, a bit sharp and harsh. His tone, vocally trying to make Jazz back off, made the wingless mech pry all the harder.

"Try meh." Jazz dared with a slight lift of his chin.

Prowl's optics narrowed. Instead of answering directly, he scolded Jazz. "How dense are you?"

"Huh? Wha-"

"Shut up." Prowl ordered, raising a hand. "Listen. Just how stupid are you? You have all the facts that you yourself have stumbled upon, all the clues you need. Why must _I _be forced into telling you something when you should have processor enough to figure it out yourself!"

"Prowl, Ah-" Jazz started, only to be stopped by Prowl's hand once again.

"Get out." the Praxian demanded. "I don't want you on this case."

"Prowl!" Jazz exclaimed, glaring at the seated mech. "Why not? Ah can help. Frag, Ah'm yer _assistant _and all that slag."

Prowl scowled darkly. "You are going on a case of your own. I want you to open your optics and _try _and figure what you want to know on your own. I'd rather you didn't." he added. "But I see there is no stopping you from doing what you want."

Jazz glowered, put off by Prowl's dark mood. "Fine. Ah'll figure it out mahself."

Prowl snorted in amusement. A breathy chuckled escaped his vocalizer. "All I can say, Jazz, is good luck."

Jazz huffed in defiance as he hopped off of Prowl's desk. He'd show him. He'd dig up every last bit of information Prowl had ever tried to hide! And he knew just how to do it. Right were to start.

_Ah'll show ya_. Jazz mused. _Ah'll make ya wish ya'd jus' told meh in the first place._

* * *

With shaking digits, Jazz vented and collected himself. He keyed in a password to a small safe, once having been hidden under his berth. Inside were a few personal items, passports, security details, the usual stuff kept hidden in a fire-proof safe. Shuffling by the chips and cards, he withdrew a small stack of letters.

He tossed them aside on the berth and replaced the fire-box. He lay himself prostrate on the berth, chassis snugly pressed into the warming blanket and mattress.

"Ya told meh ta figure it out." he mumbled as he onlined one of the letters. "Well, Ah'm figurin' it out."

The pad went from a normal blue to a soft pink. A neat, cursive penmanship filled the page and doodled little images of no obvious importance in the corners. He vented, and forced himself to read the first line.

'_My dearest Prowlie'_

He stopped right there, flipping the pad over as if the sight of it had stabbed his optics. He vented hard, unable to bring himself to betray Prowl's trust like this. He flipped the pad back over, and turned the magenta screen back to cobalt. He shoved it and the other letters into his subspace, and left his room.

* * *

Jazz growled at the smug look Prowl gave him as he neared. The mech was no longer at his station office, but situated outside at a scrap yard. The offlined and energonless mech's frame had been found by a worker, who was currently being cross examined back at the station.

"Give up all ready?" Prowl smirked, looking rather haughty in Jazz's optics.

The Praxian just barely caught the wad of data-pads that were tossed at him as Jazz launched them. His optics hardened and furrowed at what he saw in his hands.

"I thought these were destroyed." Prowl seemed to growl.

Jazz shook his helm. "They weren't, were they now?"

Prowl swallowed hard, his doorwings trembling in barely suppressed emotion as he looked squarely at the Polyhexian. "Do you _understand_me now? Hmm? Do you understand why I am the way I am?" the words were spat out with such venom that Jazz almost wished he had read them, just to understand the depth of emotions he was seeing in his friend.

"No, Prowl." Jazz replied calmly. "Ah don't. Ah never read 'em, as temptin' as it was."

Prowl looked taken back. He fidgeted with a corner of one of the pads for a moment. "You...didn't read them?"

"No, Ah didn'." Jazz confirmed, crossing his servos. "Though, now Ah wish Ah had."

It was Jazz's turn to be taken back. Prowl thrust his hand out, offering the letters back to Jazz. "Take them." he gritted out. "Before I change my mind."

Jazz shook his helm, pushing the white and black hand away. "It ain't right, Prowl. I want _you _to tell me what happened."

Prowl vented heavily, his helm hung low. "All of it?" he asked softly, reluctance clear in his voice.

"Just enough for meh ta get it." Jazz stated. He pat Prowl's arm comfortingly, sensing how hard the subject was for Prowl despite his own lack of knowledge. "Can we jus' try tha'?"

"Fine." Prowl reluctantly agreed. "At home, though. Not here."

"Course." Jazz nodded as he snapped back to reality and the scene they were currently standing in. "When can we get back?"

"After I take care of something." Prowl replied over his shoulder as he walked away from Jazz. The Polyhexian's optics widened as the other mech walked over to a scrapper, and thrust the stack of letters inside. The machine groaned and screamed loudly as the pads slid through it, coming out as little shards of twisted metal and chipped glass.

"Pro-" Jazz stopped himself before he could scold the other. They had been meant to be destroyed originally, he reminded himself, Prowl was just making sure that they were taken care of once and for all.

"Now we can go home." Prowl stated, brushing past Jazz as he headed towards the slightly crowded road.

"And the scene?" Jazz asked as he mentioned towards the drained frame.

"I've got what I need." Prowl replied curtly as he transformerd and drove off.

Jazz shook his helm and threw one more glance at the scene before he transformed and drove towards the apartment complex a little ways behind Prowl.

* * *

As fate would have it, Jazz's explanation would have to come much later. They had entered the apartment normally, and Jazz had headed to the cooler for some cubes for them, knowing that Prowl most likely hadn't eaten yet.

"I would suggest that you didn't touch anything, other than your comm." Prowl said calmly, standing stock still as he faced the living room.

"Why not?" Jazz question, hand frozen in place as he turned to face the Praxian.

"Because, Jazz." Prowl explained, still calm and unmoving. "Our home has just become a crime scene."

"What do ya'-" Jazz froze as he looked into the living room. There, on the low table in the living room, sat a lamp that had once been on the bookshelf. It was on, and shining directly at an onlined data-pad, mismatched letters and words splayed about in lines.

Jazz hurriedly pressed his comm. to call the station whereas Prowl diligently set about to look in all the rooms. Jazz had no sooner turned off his comm. when a cry came out from Prowl's office room.

His spark was pounding madly as he rushed into the empty room. He hurried into the newly discovered 'lab', only to find Prowl kneeling on the ground.

"Prowl, ya okay?" Jazz asked hurriedly, scanning the mech for injuries.

"He broke it." Prowl breathed out. He held the shattered remains of his newly sprouted crystal.

"Is tha' it?" Jazz vented in relief. "Ah mean, Ah'm sorry 'bout yer crystal an' all, but Ah thought you were bein' murdered!"

Prowl ignored Jazz, gathering up the bits of crystal scattered about. He shook his helm. "It's no use, they're already blackening."

Jazz held out his hand to look at the pieces. Prowl obliged, and slid the shimmering pieces into Jazz's cupped digits. Jazz fingered them, the once radiant colors turning dim and murky as the kliks went by.

"Can't ya replant 'em like ya did the first time?" Jazz offered helpfully, pity in his optics as Prowl selected only one piece, a grayish shard with a bit of each color still slightly visible. Jazz spark sank as Prowl shook his helm solemnly.

"It was hard enough getting it to grow after its first shattering, it's too late for a third germination." Prowl vented. He let the piece slip through his fingers and fall to the floor, shattering into yet three more pieces. "Come along, Jazz, I believe Station and the Enforcers are here."

Jazz nodded, a knock at the door sounding just as Prowl left the room. Jazz debated a second between leaving the mess or not. It _was _evidence, though, so it had to remain.

By the time Jazz reached the living room, Prowl was in mid-discussion with Station and the dark blue mini-bot Digger.

"What'd Ah miss?" Jazz asked, siding himself with Prowl. He had to push aside a few Enforcers, scanning for digitprints and the like.

"Digger was just about to read the pad." Station explained as the mini-bot, dressed in a pair of latex based gloves, reached out and picked up the still online pad.

Digger shifted a bit, and cleared his throat. "Not much of a poet, if you ask me.

_'Primus is amused with our failures, just as I am amused by yours. You are a fool to think that you will ever solve such a case. It is above your helm, just as the case is above the law. You are nothing compared to what you attempt to uncover, a mere pebble in an entire quarry.'_"

Jazz glanced over at the Praxian as the mini-bot finished reading. Prowl had his optics closed, seeming to absorb every word of the letter. His optics opened after a klik.

"Is that all?" he asked. The mini-bot shook his helm.

"Nothing but his signature, of sorts." he stated. "'M'."

Station bobbed his helm in thought for a moment. "So, we're dealing with the same character as earlier."

"And the one I have been following since the beginning of my career." Prowl added, studying the data-pad in his own timing.

"You two mechs pack your bags." Station ordered. "It's not safe for you two here. I'll find you a place to stay until-"

"Excuse me." Prowl interrupted, raising a digit as he set aside the data-pad. "But that is exactly what he wants."

"Who wants?" Station questioned, turning towards the Praxian. "This 'M'? No, what he wants is to have you offlined." He gestured towards both Prowl and Jazz as he lifted his optic ridges.

"On the contrary, if he had wanted so, you wouldn't have received a comm. from Jazz. Or, maybe you would have but I certainly would have been offlined. This murderer hangs around until he's gotten his mech." Prowl explained. "No, if he had wanted me offline I would be offline. I am safest here."

"And just how, in Primus' name, is that?" Station dared, rocking on his pedes in irritation.

"Because this flat is being watched." Prowl explained. "If I were to set foot out, I would be followed to whatever new home away from home you would take us to, and then this cycle would be restarted."

Station vented. He turned to the Polyhexian, standing just offside of Prowl. "Jazz, pack your own bag and-"

"Nuh-uh." Jazz shook his helm stubbornly. "If Prowl stays, Ah'm stayin'."

Station looked put off, having been turned down by both mechs in front of his squad, but wisely did not push the matter. Even if he had though Jazz had a clearer helm! He shook his helm and vented agitatedly. "Fine, but I'm planting some mechs at your door."

"That won't be-"

"We'd be very grateful." Jazz quickly interrupted the Praxian. No point in being completely unprotected and ticking-off Station even more.

Prowl scowled at that, but backed down. Station shook his helm to himself, muttering about genius fools and murderous fiends.

Jazz sunk onto the sofa, some joors later, completely spent. It was later now and well into the ungodly hours of night-er-morning, if his chronometer was anything to go by. Prowl looked fatigued, but not too much as he sat down in his red chair. He was in his traditional thinking pose, leaned back with shuttered optics and digits pressed to his lips.

Jazz vented heavily, seriously second guessing himself. Was it really safe to stay here if a psychopath had broken in so easily? Then again, wasn't he living with one? Jazz shrugged to himself, deciding to let the issue drop before he developed a helm-ache. Jazz decided to shutter his optics for a few moments as he tried to redirect his thoughts to the crime and their present situation.

Prowl suddenly rose from his seat, a self-satisfied smirk plastered on his face as he moved towards the table.

Jazz started forward at the scraping of the table being dragged, surprised that he had been dozing off.

"Help me with this, would you?" Prowl asked quickly, dragging the table along like a youngling would a heavy bag, doorwings flared out to help him with balance.

Jazz scoffed as he pushed himself up from his seat. He grabbed the other side of the table, and easily pushed it where Prowl wanted.

"Why do ya need the table over 'ere?" Jazz asked, his sleepy processor only just realizing how odd it was to press a small table against a bookshelf. Or, more so, how odd it was for Prowl to climb up on it.

"This." Prowl seemed to hum, pulling down a decorative vase and tossing it down.

Jazz easily caught it, saving it from a nasty smash. His digits brushed against a small hole that had been skilfully drilled into its side. After climbing down, Prowl took it back and withdrew from it a small wire and base.

"Is tha'-" Jazz started in surprise.

"Security camera." Prowl confirmed as he set it down on the moved table. He disappeared from the room for a klik before returning with his outdated, chunky laptop. He set it down beside the security camera, and plugged the two together. "Let's see what's happened around, oh...let's say, seven joor ago?"

Jazz sat cross-peded on the floor, mirroring Prowl's position. The colorful screen of the camera whizzed by, but the only thing moving was the shadows as the sun zipped across the sky. Jazz started as the door opened, and a figure skittered in.

"Pause it!" Jazz ordered just as Prowl clicked the key-pad. A mech, dark black and blood red, stood hunched and frozen in the middle of their living room. "That's him."

Prowl gave a single nod of his helm, optics narrowing as he took in every blurred detail from the image. "Jazz, help me move this table back."

"Sure thing." Jazz agreed, carefully taking a side of the table as Prowl did the same. The laptop teetered dangerously near the edge, nearly slipping once or twice, but remained unscathed as the table was set back down.

"Stand right here." Prowl designated a spot with his pede. Jazz cocked an optic ridge, but humored the mech and dutifully stood on the indicated spot.

"'Kay...now wha'?" Jazz asked as Prowl knelt by the table and glanced up at him, and then back at the computer.

"Take a step forward- Yes. No! Back up slightly!" Prowl ordered Jazz about like one would in hanging a sign. "There, don't move." Prowl indicated with two hands held up.

Jazz had gone from intrigued to completely weirded out as Prowl came over, and began to move Jazz about like a mannequin. The odd mech then hurried back to the computer screen, and again compared Jazz to it. He nodded as something within his processor clicked.

"Ya know somthin'?" Jazz asked, moving from his pose, strikingly similar to the way the mech was frozen on the screen.

Prowl gave a single nod. "I now know the height and weight of 'M', as well as the fact that he walks with a slight limp."

"Ah got the limp from the vid." Jazz agreed. "He's 'bout our height, right?"

Prowl shook his helm. "He is a good deal smaller, but not a mini-bot. Just a short mech. He should come up to about..." his voice trailed off as he put a hand at Jazz's chassis, just about shoulder level. "Here."

Jazz looked down at the hand, memorizing the height and imagining the bot in front of him. How he'd like to beat the slag out of that mech! Breaking into their home and breaking thei-Prowl's stuff. Nothing of Jazz's had been touched, as he thought about it, just Prowl's crystal.

A steady clicking brought Jazz away from his thoughts of beating the mysterious 'M'. Prowl was kneeling in front of his computer again, typing vigorously. Jazz vented as a familiar red line flashed across the screen. Prowl paused a second before typing, and the red flashed to green.

"What'd ya hack now?" Jazz asked as he sunk down next to the Praxian.

"Security footage from around town, starting here-" Prowl pointed at a live image of their street, their apartment complex clearly visible. "And ending..." his voice trailed off as he forwarded the surveillance footage. "Where 'M' began."

"Where?" Jazz asked, leaning forward to look at the screen.

Prowl pushed him back, huffing. "I haven't found it yet! I have to go over joors of security footage from hundreds of streets to get to 'M's origin."

"That could take orns, though." Jazz stated in an argumentative tone.

"Then lend a hand." Prowl said. "In my office, in the closet, are numerous computers such as this one. Grab a few and set them up on the sofa. Be sure that they're plugged in, as they have terrible battery life."

Jazz rolled his optics. Of course Prowl would not have not only one outdated laptop, but multiple ones. It was a cinch finding them, as Prowl had the large closet well-organized. There were weapons hanging on the wall, some Jazz could easily say were illegal, but decided not to really take note of, thereby claiming ignorance should the need arise, bottles of chemical were lined up on bottom shelves, and flasks and vials were neatly arranged on the floor. There, on an upper shelf, rested numerous, closed laptop computers and their chargers.

"How's this?" Jazz asked after arranging them on the sofa. Three rested on the cushions, while two more on each side balanced on the armrests. Prowl original laptop was on the back of the couch, leaning against the wall and zipping through the orn's data of a certain street.

"Good." Prowl said. "Now, get onto the security detail site, and get in."

Jazz easily got onto the security footage, but logging on was another problem. "Hey, what's tha' password ya been usin'?"

"Jazz." Prowl scoffed. "Are you or are you not and Enforcer? Can you _really _not figure it out?"

"Ah ain't a freak." Jazz returned hotly. "Now, what's the fraggin' magic word ya been usin' ta get into all this scrap?"

"Well, at least you realize it's only one." Prowl vented. "It's a number combinations, Jazz. Just upload 'pi' into it."

"Pi?" Jazz repeated. "But, there ain't no endin' ta tha' number."

"Exactly. It's infinite." Prowl smirked. "So, there has to be at least one combination in it that is equal to the number code."

Jazz wished he could face-palm at the simplicity of it. Of course it would work! Typing in a link to 'pi', the red bar Jazz had flashed to green. Smirking to himself in pride, and ignoring the twisting in his tank at hacking into a protected site, he continued on until all of the computers were linked.

"Now wha'?" Jazz asked after Prowl had set each computer up to a different street.

"Now, you go to bed." Prowl replied coolly, standing as straight and tall as a statue in the middle of the room.

"Ya can't watch all those screens by yerself." Jazz stated, wide opticed. "You'll go nuts!"

"On the contrary, I do this all the time." Prowl replied calmly. "It is a very good mind exercise. It helps me to focus everything at once, and sort through the information faster. Right now, I can tell that that femme in the second screen has gone into labor, that youngling has lost is creator-no, he found them. Those are the mechs that robbed the jeweller last groon, and-"

"Okay, Ah get it." Jazz shook his whirling processor. "You watch the screens, Ah'm sleepin' in."

"Good night." Prowl called over his shoulder as Jazz retreated.

"Mornin'." Jazz returned, sliding his door shut.

* * *

Jazz was started from a deep recharge by a slam, followed by a bang, and yet another slam.

"Prowl?" Jazz murmured tiredly, dragging himself from his berth. "Wha's goin' on?"

He received no answer as he slid his door open, other than to be knocked back into his room. After straightening himself up and scowling at the retreating mech's, he decided to follow.

"Prowl?" Jazz repeated, his initial fatigue long gone as Prowl hurried into his office and took out a black, handheld case typically used for small items. "What are you doin'?"

"I have found my mech." Prowl replied coolly, throwing the black case open to reveal nothing at all.

"Have ya called headquarters?" Jazz asked with widened optics and ready spark. Ready for action, and to take down this mech that invaded their home and killed so many bots.

"No." Prowl replied with his even more so then normal emotionless voice. "I have not."

"Want meh ta-" Jazz started, going for his comm.

"No!" Prowl exclaimed sharply, causing Jazz to freeze and stare at the Praxian in confusion. "This is _my _case. This is _my _mech. This is my _revenge._"

Jazz registered the word only as the Praxian tossed a screwdriver into the black case, followed by a small file and then an energy blade. His optics widened as realization hit him like a load of bricks, and he grabbed the other black and white's arm.

"Prowl, stop. Think 'bout this." he pleaded with the Praxian. "All you've done in followin' this mech, and now thinkin' of throwin' it all away. Prowl, ya do know what'll happen to ya if ya do this, righ'?"

"I know everything about it." Prowl stated. "And I have you to thank for it."

"Meh?" Jazz asked, visor darkening and narrowing in anger. How was he being twisted into this knot? "What did Ah have'ta do wi' this?"

"You have helped me clear my processor. You were right, I would thank you one day." Prowl stated, referring back to the Quantum he had only left a few groon ago. "I don't believe I have ever thought so clearly before." he paused, tapping the sharp end of a thick knife to his lips in thought. "It's frightening."

"Prowl." Jazz ordered, a rightful anger bubbling up in him. "Why? At least tell meh tha' much."

Prowl stopped once more, observing his array of torture devices. He looked up at the Praxian, a frightful clarity in his optics that allowed a two way look into his soul. He gave a single nod.

"Yes, I suppose I owe you that much, don't I?" Prowl admitted, going over to a data pad and removing its back and then the small pick he had hidden there. "I would have you recall those letters you stumbled upon a few groon ago?"

Jazz nodded. "Yeah, ya jus' shredded 'em."

Prowl hummed in agreement. "Have you any idea as to what and from whom they were from?"

"They were love letters." Jazz answered easily. That was the entire reason it was such a problem to read them. "Ah have no idea-"

"Oh, please." Prowl scoffed. "As if even you could be that dense."

"Iris?" Jazz tried, not sure what to feel as Prowl nodded.

"Yes. Iris." Prowl swallowed as if the name itself was painful to speak. "A femme."

"She liked ya." Jazz stated more then asked.

Another confirmation. "It took a while, but, yes. It was I who proposed the entire relationship." Prowl smirked at Jazz's reaction. "Yes, Jazz, even I was able to be...smitten."

"Ya loved 'er." Jazz stated again, leaning against the door frame. _Primus, tell meh this ain't headnin' the way Ah think it is._

Prowl said nothing nor moved for nearly a breem. He vented in, nodded, and vented out. "This 'M', I was introduced to his tyranny during my earliest cases. Somehow, 'M' discovered my relationship with this particular femme. 'M' has never in any way brought _physical _harm to me, but-"

"'M' killed 'er." Jazz vented out, sorrow sketched on his face. "Prowl, Ah'm sorry 'bout tha'. Ah'm sorry 'bout everythin' tha's happened to ya, but is revenge really the way ta go about it? Ah mean, murderin' 'M' will only-"

"Murder?" Prowl chuckled dryly, darkly. He turned menacingly to the Polyhexian, optics flashing for a moment. "No, Jazz. I do not intend to _murder _'M'. Not at first, anyways. No, I intend to _torture _him. Make him regret everything he's ever done, and then I and only I will decide if he shall live or not."

Jazz lowered his helm as Prowl slammed his case shut. "There's no stoppin' ya then?" He asked as his core coding rebelled at the idea. He was an Enforcer, sworn to protect life. If Prowl did this, it would place him even below the level that 'M' had fallen to. Yet, Prowl was his friend, and he cared about the mech. But if he truly cared, he would try to do what is right.

"Not a way in the world." Prowl confirmed, grabbing the thick plastic handle and hefting it up. He took two long strides towards the slightly smaller mech. "I suggest that you do _not _follow me. I cannot and will not be concerned with your safety if you happen to do so."

"Ah ain't followin' ya." Jazz stated, not even turning to follow the mech with his optics as he left. "But Ah am gonna call headquarters."

The retreating pedsteps returned, quickly. Prowl was within his personal space once again, leaning over him, his warm vents tickling Jazz's neck. "You do what you feel you must." he tapped his chassis firmly, with a passion Jazz had never seen in him before. "I will do the same."

With that, he retreated once more, slamming the door behind him. Jazz shuttered his optics, and took a shuddering vent as he processed everything in his processor.

* * *

Prowl chuckled to himself as he climbed the sixth flight of stairs. _How very typical._He thought to himself. _Another murder in progress. Perhaps I can make some good this night other than my own personal intents._

He easily found the desired room, its lock chain swinging freely in the slightly open door. Muffled shouts came from within, and a dark green femme, bound and gagged, beat herself against the wall and vent in a vain attempt that she might be heard.

_Or perhaps_...Prowl mused. _Not so vain._

He easily strode past her, her strangled sobs just barely escaping her gag. The mech he had been searching for stood just within touching distance. He was setting up a tripod, most likely to hang her upside down on as he slit her throat. A sick feeling roiled within him, the calm exterior he had held throughout the entire ordeal never wavering despite the way raw emotion tore through him internally. Was this the fate Iris had suffered, that fateful night so long ago?

He shook his helm as he silently slid out his subspace. This was not the time for reminiscing. He slid out an electric prod, and cleared his throat. The black and red mech before him whirled around, a gray scar etching up his cheek.

"You." he growled in a raspy, hoarse voice.

Prowl nodded, rising up on his pedes. "Yes, me." he introduced before whacking the mech upside the helm with the baton, electricity knocking the murderer out as he slumped to the floor.

Without hesitation, Prowl grabbed him to begin the trek down the stairs. He vented in agitation as he caught sight of the distressed femme, still sobbing and screaming out to no one. He had nearly forgotten about her.

He disposed of the unconscious mech, letting him slump unceremoniously just in the hallway. He returned to the hysterical femme and knelt down beside her. He easily flipped her on her side, and away from him. The less she saw of him, the better.

"I will untie you." he said lowly, a hand over his mouth to distort his voice. "When I do so, can you count to 100, please? Once done, you are free to call the Enforcers."

The femme sniffled and nodded, crying behind the soggy gag more. Relief filled her spark as her wrists were cut free, and then her tightly bound pedes. She sobbed freely, curling in on herself as her gag slid to the floor.

"Now, please begin counting." her muffled saviour stated, slowly rising and backing away from her trembling frame.

"1...2...3..." she choked out. The door started to creak. "4...5...s-six..." she continued. The door clicked closed.

It seemed to take joors, but she finally reached one hundred and launched herself at her comm.

* * *

The femme took a slow sip of the hot energon the Polyhexan had pressed into her hands. Its high energy was enough to relax her, but not enough to give her a buzz.

"Now, can you tell us what happened, Evergreen?" Station asked, seated just across from the femme.

The femme took a shuddering vent. "I-I never heard the door open. I was jus'-" she paused for a vent. "Just watching a program on the holo-vid. I'm a-a college student down at the university, and had been s-studying all day." she took another vent. "Someone t-tapped me on the shoulder and-"

The femme paused again and pressed the back of her hand to her mouth, sniffing and inhaling deeply. Jazz placed a comforting hand on her shoulder as she tried to regain herself.

"I-I'm sorry." Evergreen whimpered, crying softly as she hung her helm. "I-I want to help, I-I do, bu-"

"Hey, it's okay." Jazz said calmly, giving her shoulder a tiny shake. "Can ya tell meh anythin' 'bout the bot that cut ya free? Colors, anythin'?"

"That mech." she vented, focusing on her personal savior to calm a bit. "I couldn't tell much a-about him. I-I only saw his feet-black and maybe white-, and I-I think that...I think he had a hand over his mouth."

"What'd he say?" Station pressed gently. They needed info. If Prowl was really on a murderous rampage, they had to stop him before he did something even Station couldn't clear up.

"He cut me free, and told me to count." Evergreen recalled, shuttering her optics in an attempt to recall even more info. "He even said please."

Jazz snorted a bit. "It started ta sound like 'im 'til tha' part."

Station rolled his optics as he turned back to the femme. "Did he say anything about where he might go? Anything about him to give you an idea about where he was going?"

The femme's optics remained shuttered as she shook her helm. "N-no. Please, if you find him though, thank him for me. That other mech, I don't why-" her intakes hitched and a small sob left her throat. "He wanted to-" she threw her hands over her face and shook her helm.

"It's all right." Station sympathized. "A medic's coming up, they'll check you over and make sure that-"

Jazz didn't care to listen any more as he tore through his own mind.

Prowl _had _been here, no doubt about that. He had been here, got his mech, and left. Where would he go now that he had what he wanted?

_Someplace so overt, it's covert._He couldn't help but assume. _Someplace so commonplace that you'd overlook it without second thought. _A tiny smirk flickered over his face a second. _Dang, Ah sound too much like Prowl._

"Something you want to share, Jazz?" Station asked from behind the Polyhexian. He had looked so much like the Praxian, optics shuttered, processor working overtime.

"We gotta get back ta mah place." Jazz stated. "Ah think we'll find a clue there."

* * *

Prowl lifted his helm as a soft moan reached his audios. He rose to his pedes, doorwings splayed out behind him as he watched his captured prisoner slowly online, a flash of confusion through his optics._How disappointing, confusion but no fear._

"You?" the black and red mech chuckled dryly after observing his predicament and placement, and sporting a good sized dent in the side of his helm.

Prowl nodded. "I believe we have gone over this." he motioned at his prisoner. "I hope you'll forgive me for hanging you _right-side up_. I understand that you do it the opposite way for your own captives."

His prisoner chuckled, snorted at him. "What do you want?"

"Revenge." Prowl stated. Short and simple. "You took something of mine. Something that I wanted to keep, and something that cannot be replaced."

The mech's optics narrowed in amusement, crinkling at the edges as he looked over the assortment of tools Prowl had lain out on a table. He had started with the largest electronic devise, a sonic-drill, and worked his way down to a lock-pick.

"So..." he drawled. "What form of torture have you decided on?"

"I have not, actually." Prowl replied, never turning to face the spoken of tools of torment but remaining fixated on the black mech hanging by his servos from the ceiling, dangling just a few astro-yards from the floor. "I was going to leave that up to fate..."

"Gonna kill me?" the mech asked calmly, that irritating smirk still flashing the mech's denta at him.

"Most likely." Prowl neared a few steps. "The chance increases each passing klik."

"Pain and death are old friends of mine." the dangling mech said coolly, though a hint faster than before. His pupils were dilating slightly, a sign his spark rate was going up. Fear was entering him, despite its small amount.

Prowl neared enough for the mech to feel his breath on his faceplates. "Is _torture _an old friend too? Hmm?" he took a step back. "Before we begin our exercise, I want to hear your side of the story. Humor me. Why?"

The mech shrugged awkwardly, intakes seeming a bit difficult from his hanging position. "Pay's good. Kill bots that got no relation to me, an-"

He was cut off as a harsh, doubled fist collided with his soft cheek metal. He tasted the warm, metallic taste of energon in his mouth, and laughed at the few denta he spit out.

"Anybot ever tell ya you hit like a femme?" he spit again, dark blue dribbling down his chin.

Prowl nodded. "Yes. I have. Femme heavyweight boxing champion said something along those lines once...if memory serves correctly."

The mech's optics darkened minusculy, yet another sign that he was slowly succumbing into the chasm of cold-sparked fear.

"What do you want?" he snarled, chains rattling as he thrust himself forward in an attempt to look intimidating in his submissive position.

"I want to know _why_." Prowl repeated. "Why did you kill her?"

"I-" the mech started, pausing and scrunching his face in confusion. "Hold up a klik, mate. She, as in _femme_?"

"I don't think that even you could be that idiotic." Prowl scoffed. "Yes, a femme."

The mech stared at him blankly as he slowly shook his helm. "I've never killed a femme before."

Prowl's optics narrowed into tiny slits, the metaphorical dagger just barely able to slip by his optic covers and pierce the other mech's spark. "Does the name 'Iris' mean anything to you?" he spat out with such venom that the fear Prowl had long awaited for finally flashed through the other mech's optics.

The mech slowly shook his helm, pausing, panting to think. That devious, irritation smirk crossed his face again. "It rings a bell. Pretty little femme, she was. Purple, now, black here and there. A bit of yellow. That her?"

"The spitting image." Prowl spat.

The mech laugh. "You got the wrong bloke, mate. I'm not the one that killed yer femme. That-" he chuckled dryly. "_That _was 'M'."

"No." Prowl shook his helm, fear clamping over his own spark._This is only a mind game, he wants to get inside my helm! He wants to make me doubt myself_. "You. You are 'M'."

The mech laughed loudly, insanely as fear finally found an outlet as he swung painfully on his chains. "Me? Now there's a thoughts. No, friend, I'm not him. Name's Boron."

"No." Prowl shook his helm, distraught. His hand slapped onto the table, grabbing the first thing he could curl his digits around. He withdrew a strong, metallic blade, still shaking his helm. "It was you. You're 'M'. You killed her. No one else, just you. You are a _liar_!"

"I'm telling the truth!" Boron growled. "A murderer, cheater, assassin, crook-yes! All those things, but never, _never _a liar."

"No." Prowl vented faster, barely able to catch his breath. "You. No one else." his intakes wavered. "You killed Iris, you left the note."

"I left a note, but was ordered by 'M'!" Boron exclaimed, swinging badly about in his rage. "The double-crosser! He wants to do away with me, by leading you astray! Don't fall into his trap, friend. Do your thing and _think_!"

Prowl shook his helm, for once barely able to process his thoughts. He stumbled once, but regained himself as he slowly strode back to where his prisoner swung. His processor finally caught up with him, and he froze as he really _thought_. The black and red mech smiled as he saw his point being taken.

"You're a rare thing in this world." he breathed, choking a bit on the stinging taste of his own blood.

"And what is that?" Prowl asked in a near whisper.

"An honest mech." Boron returned. "I knew you'd do the right thing."

"It has been said that the average mechs are predictable, that they each have a percentage of certain statistics in different predicaments. The actions and turn outs defer, but never the percentages." Prowl rumbled lowly.

"Alpha Trion..." Boron mused, recognizing the quote. "Wise mech."

Prowl nodded, rising up on his pedes before rocking back again. "Something that he forgot to figure, though." he said softly.

"Yeah?" Boron smirked. "What's that?"

"I am not the average mech." Prowl replied, digits curling around the knife. His face hardened, lips slightly puckered, and he threw his weight into the jab.

* * *

"There." Jazz said lowly, pointing at one of the onlined screens. It had been easy to re-hack the computers again and got the paused security footage Prowl had on each screen. He had narrowed in on a lowly building, smack in the middle of Iacon.

"There?" Station parroted with a cocked optics. "I don't know...a bit out in the open. This is Prowl we're talking about."

"Exactly." Jazz agreed.

Station shook his helm. "You sure he's there?"

"More o' a hunch...but wha's the harm in tryin'?" Jazz asked, turning to the Enforcer chief.

"Alright, we'll head down, then." Station relented. "One thing, before we do though."

"Wha'?" Jazz asked, worried about his friend and not having the tolerance or patience for stupid questions.

"How did you get into those security cameras?" Station asked warily, eyeing Jazz.

The Polyhexian smirked. "Easy as pi."

* * *

"Damn." Jazz cursed, looking over the swinging chains and spattered blood and what appeared to be a few denta on the ground.

"We're too late." Station said aloud what was in everyone's helm.

Jazz scrubbed a hand tiredly over his face. He had tried so hard. He had gotten everything so right, only to be too late. Is this how Prowl felt when he solved a case, only to have the innocent bot punished for the crime he didn't commit?

_Nope, cuz it don' affect him directly_. He sighed.

"Hang on." Station started, vague hope underlining his voice as a hand tapped his beeping comm.

Jazz perked up and watched the one side of the conversation. "Well?"

"That was Digger. Guess who just showed up at Headquarters with our 'M'?" Station asked aloud, making it as obvious as possible what the answer was. "Who, also, Digger stressed that this wasn't our 'M', but some mech called Boron."

"Prowl's at HQ?" Jazz asked, receiving a nod in confirmation. "Then what're we standin' 'ere for?" he motioned widely with his servos as he made his way towards the door.

* * *

Boron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He knew all too well what this was. An annoying little mini-bot- Digger, its seemed- and the chief Enforcer were currently playing a game of 'good cop, bad cop'. Really, if you wanted something intimidating, don't let the mini-bot play bad cop.

He also knew that the blacked out window wasn't all that blacked out on the other side. He couldn't tell who was watching and listening, but knew that somebot was.

He forced himself to listen to that annoying 'bad cop' again.

"So, explain once more for the records, just _what _happened?" Digger ordered.

"I told ya, I lured Prowl out. He nearly fell into my trap, damn that processor of his." Boron repeated coolly. "We got into a brawl, he only defended himself."

"That explains your stab wound?" Station asked, cocking an optic ridge.

Boron nodded, smirking. "Lucky bloke, I am. Missed everything important, that damn mech."

Jazz shook his helm, looking away from his windowed view. He opened the door, and entered the hall, leaving some other Enforcer to watch instead. He slid into Station's office, currently empty of the owner but containing one mech.

"Yer missin' out on one Pit of a confession." Jazz stated as he flopped down in a chair.

Prowl remained motionless on the small loveseat he occupied. He only shifted his once shuttered optics towards the intruder, and hummed.

"Prowl, Ah've been in brawls 'fore." Jazz continued. "Ah don' think even Ah could find away ta injure 'im without hurtin' 'im." Prowl's optic ridge climbed up. "At lease, in the sense of missin' important parts."

"He's covering." Prowl admitted, his voice low but still dangerously near cracking. "He-he wants me to investigate his case. He feels he's been wronged." he spat.

"Are ya gonna?" Jazz asked, taking in the barely perceptible hints in the Praxian's body language. Other than looking somewhat depressed, he couldn't find anything more. "Ah mean, 'e did kill Iris."

Prowl snorted sharply, more of an intake than anything else. "No." he shook his helm, sucking in his bottom lip to stop its wavering. "He didn't. 'M' did, 'M's still out there." He rolled his watery optics up to the ceiling as he took in another breath.

Jazz shifted a moment before rising and slowly seating himself next to Prowl. The Praxian's optics darted down as Jazz's hand enveloped his knee, but said nothing. He quickly squeezed his optics shut, but was unable to stop the single tear that slid down.

"Prowl..." Jazz started._I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry about everything. I want to help. I want-_"Why don't ya head home, 'kay? Get some rest. Ah'll be by in a-," Jazz paused to think, "in a joor."

Prowl hummed, as if to question him. Jazz breathed a soft chuckle. Even upset and silent, the mech still got his point across perfectly.

"Paperwork." Jazz answered the unasked, intoned question. He pat Prowl's knee once before rising.

Prowl rose at the same time, and silently retreated from the room. His doorwings were only seen an instant from the blinded glass, before disappearing around the bend.

Jazz's hand curled into fists, claws digging into his palm almost enough to draw blood. Just wait until he got his hands on 'M'. He'd make that mech regret his first intake, he'd make him regret _everything_.

* * *

Author's Note- Thank you to my amazing beta-reader/ story-fixer-upper/literary genius,** Nikkie2010**

Also, thank you to all who reviewed last chapter! I'd thank you all in turn if I ha better internet access!

One more thing, those of you who may watch the epic show Elementary most likely found the large references made in this chapter towards it. I know , and the next chapter is going to be tied in very closely with an Episode of it too. (Wanna guess the two? Huh, huh?!) Those will be it, though! (Unless I see something in this new season that I HAVE to do!) I swear, though, that I will never plagiarise the episodes and will always change them up. Thank you and good week!


	10. Chapter 10 Whats Lost is Found

**Chapter 10 What's Lost is Found or A Treasure to Dispose**

* * *

Jazz placed a hand on the Praxian's shoulder as the latter fiddled with a hand-held communications device. It had shown up at their front door in an unmarked box. No postage marks, no name other than Prowl's, no nothing. Opening revealed nothing but the single, pager-like device, and a single piece of cardstock reading 'M'.

"Should I?" Prowl asked, actually seeking the advice of his associate.

"What's the harm in tryin'?" Jazz shrugged, multiple possibilities rising in his helm.

Prowl snorted. "Would you like a list? Timed bomb, pressure-sensor explosion, trap-door, spring-activated, poison meant to be breathed in. Liquid poison, meant to be absorbed through the-"

"Yeah." Jazz shook his hand, cutting Prowl off. "Ah get it. Ah know the risks, 'kay?"

Prowl vented, his thumb digit ghosting over the single, red button in the middle of the black device. He stopped in mid motion.

"Jazz, in the closet in my office is a recording device. If this indeed is a communication device to the infamous 'M', then we will want recorded footage of this." Prowl stated calmly, despite the tenseness in his wings and frame.

"Okay." Jazz nodded, hurrying towards the room. It had become to feel less intrusive to him, now that Prowl was including him more. At first he had felt like the mech's irritating little brother, just barely kept in the loop. Now, though, as he began to grow in his own deductive reasoning, Prowl had let him just a bit more into that loop.

Grabbing up the simple, old-fashioned device, Jazz shook his helm with a smirk. _Jus' where does 'e get this stuff?_

"Here." he said aloud, holding it out to the nervous Praxian.

"You hold it." Prowl suggested, digit over the button. "You ready?"

Jazz took a vent in, and flinched visible as Prowl pressed the button, a loud click resounding in the room. After half a breem passed, and they were both standing there, breathing, thinking, and living, Jazz relaxed a bit.

"Could still be a timed bomb." Prowl murmured to himself and causing Jazz's optics to widen.

A burst of static from the device made the Polyhexian jump. Prowl rolled his optics, and motioned for Jazz to ready the recording device.

A cold, heartless chuckle came through the device, as clear as crystal. "Well, Prowl, I see that you are either very brave, or very stupid to activate such a device."

"'M'." Prowl seemed to growl, doorwings pricking up in alert and defence.

"The one and only." the voice, masculine and insanely calm, replied in a near whisper. The mech did not seem at all emotionless, but allowed his emotions to strengthen his speaking and mannerism. His voice carried a hint of insanity as it would fluctuate in pitch like the waves of the rust sea. "You have questions, I have answers."

Prowl held a digit to his lips, signalling Jazz to remain silent for this voice meeting. He turned back to the communications device. "Then why continue to leave me in the dark? Let's begin with something easy, shall we? Why?"

The mech laughed defiantly, his cheery outburst not even causing the device to make a bit of static. "Now, now. Do you really expect me to simply answer you so easily? I thought you were smarter than that." the elusive 'M' replied.

"It was worth a shot." Prowl said simply. "Logic shows to reason that you want something. I assume that my payment will be answers?"

"Close." 'M' said simply. "What is something that both you and I have in common?"

"Oh, how lovely." Prowl commented dryly with a roll of his optics. "A riddle, quite original."

Jazz could feel 'M's scowl even through the device. 'M's growl was much more frightening, though.

"The love of the game." 'M' hissed.

Prowl hummed, bobbing his helm in thought. "Yes, I suppose that is right."

'M' laughed gleefully once again. "Oh, Prowl, I never thought that _you _could be kept in the dark for so long."

"What are you-"

"Never mind, you'll figure it out soon enough." 'M' sighed wistfully. "Now, you will play my game."

"And if I refuse?" Prowl asked harshly, fists clenching.

"You won't." 'M' promised. "You have too many questions, and I so many, many answers."

"What are your rules?" Prowl growled, causing Jazz to feel a bit of fear from his friend.

The device in Prowl's hand suddenly sprang to life, it's back sliding up and twisting around to reveal a black screen. With a flash of blue, it on-lined and a single address appeared.

"I think you'll figure that out yourself." 'M' stated. A dark chuckle drifted through the speaker. "The game's afoot."

With a click, the communication cut off. Prowl gave a single nod, and Jazz stopped the recording device. Prowl stared hard at the screen, keeping it turned away from Jazz. As Jazz mulled it over, Prowl had kept the communications device turned away the entire time.

Jazz started as Prowl shouted and threw the device at the floor. It shattered and then suffered under his pede as he stomped on it.

"Prowl!" Jazz exclaimed, yanking the mech back before he stomped right through the floor. "What are ya doin'?"

"Keeping him from seeing or hearing more." Prowl stated. "Can never be too careful."

"Now we don' have the address." Jazz grumbled, stopping only as a data-burst hit his HUD.

"It is right there, I memorized it and now you have it as backup." Prowl stated. "Now, come along. We have a visit to make."

(/line)

"Hey, Prowl?" Jazz asked as he pulled up alongside the Praxian. "Ah know this is a bad time, but, Ah wanna know. Jus' wha' was Iris to ya? Ah mean, Ah know ya liked 'er but all Ah know is how she died."

Prowl vented, his engines rumbling in distaste at the touchy subject. Logic told him, though, that now was most likely the best time to explain before they dove deeper into the mystery.

"She was..." Prowl paused, searching his memory banks to come up with the perfect word. None came though, as there were too many to choose from. _Friend, companion, unique_. "She was everything." he decided. "She was _the _femme. The entirety of the species to me."

Jazz would have smirked at the fact that Prowl seemed to believe mechs and femmes were entirely different _species_.

"I met her on a case. Something frivolous I won't get into, but it was in Praxus. During my time there, I knew nobody except a few on the force, and her." Prowl continued.

"She was Praxian?" Jazz asked.

Prowl snorted. "No, she actually hailed from Epsilon."

"Really?" Jazz mused. Funny how a Praxian from Iacon, and an Epsilonian in Praxus met. It just seemed too much like Fate to be anything else.

Prowl's engines revved in the positive. "Yes, I only held it against her for a while. She was always..." he searched again for a word. "So..._optimistic_. The world was a great place, filled of wonders, to her. Life was something great and to be treasured, and mechkind was the greatest of all. Despite my own opinions, I always seemed to agree with her no matter what."

Jazz hummed in thought. "Wonder if Ah'll meet a bot like that."

Prowl snorted loudly. "She was unique, Jazz. You know me, how courting and bots and relationships are all so mundane and boring. Too touchy-feely and superficial. She was different, though. She..." his voice trailed off again, and a slight hitch was heard.

"Ah get it." Jazz bumped his side a bit. "Thanks."

"She was an artist." Prowl chuckled. "Of sorts. She restored paintings from the Golden Age."

"Really?" Jazz asked, interested. "Not many o' them."

Prowl only hummed as he began to decelerate. He came to a sudden stop, transforming to his bi-pedal mode. Jazz did the same, and took in their surroundings. They were in the middle of nowhere, far away from the outskirts of the city. They stood in front of a tall iron fence, cutting off their entrance to a distant white mansion.

"Looks abandoned." Jazz mused, observing the blacked and few broken windows the home sported.

Prowl didn't seem to hear him as he shook half of the black metal gate. Chains rattled and banged against it as they swung about.

"Maybe we should get somethin' ta cut em." Jazz suggested. "There's gotta be a hardware shop nearby."

Prowl cocked an optic ridge at Jazz, scolding him silently for his lack of observation. With a single tug, the chains fell to the ground in a heap.

"Ah knew tha'." Jazz stated as he followed the silent Praxian up the long walkway.

"We're expected." Prowl said lowly, staring at a key stuck in the keyhole of the antiquated door.

_Wha's up with all the outdated stuff? _Jazz asked himself as Prowl twisted the key three times and turned the handle. The door squealed loudly as it was slowly allowed to swing open.

The floorboards creaked ominously beneath their pedes as the slunk through the empty house, bare of everything except of an odd piece of furniture here or there. A long flight of stairs beckoned to Jazz, covered in vorns of dust and a few pieces of junk.

"No." Prowl whispered, motioning Jazz away. His helm turned to a pair of glass doors, the faint thrums of music coming from within.

Jazz remained silent himself as Prowl pushed open the double doors, and slowly strolled in. He walked slowly, but stayed a good two steps ahead of Jazz. Another door blocked the back, the outer sun lighting up the entire room through its lace-covered glass panes.

An easel came into view, its contents turned away from the two intruders. Four more, all bearing antiquated painting, showed themselves in the sunlight.

Jazz tore himself away from the sights only because he had caught sight of the Praxian out of the corner of his optics. His ventilations were fast and sporadic, his doorwings shaking as if they might fall off. Before he could question him, the mech staggered back and propped himself on the wall, stammering.

"Prowl." Jazz exclaimed, grabbing the mech's servo to help keep him upright.

A tall easel had been blocking nearly half the room, but now, the back of a thin, delicate femme was visible to them. Her deep purple color reflected onto the floor, her yellow and thin black highlights clearly visible on her servos and waist. She held an artist's pallet in one hand, and a brush in the other as she touched up a deceased artist's painting. White and green paint spotted her digits, and she hummed along quietly to the classical tune playing on the radio.

"I-I..." Prowl choked. "Iris." he barely whispered. "Iris."

Jazz turned, wide opticed, to look at the femme, still oblivious to their intrusion. "Prowl?" he asked quietly, turning back to the pale mech.

He seemed as oblivious to Jazz as the femme was to them. He leaned more onto the wall to get more energy into his voice. "Iris." he called out, choked and laced with static. "Iris."

The femme gasped and jumped, whirling around on her tall stool, wide-opticed. Her pallet dropped from her limp hands and fell to the floor, and her brush clattered noisily out of her thin digits. As if under the same spell Prowl was under, they neared, Prowl hurrying to her as she seemed to barely keep herself up.

"Prowl?" she vented in disbelief, tears freely slipping down her cheek as she clutched the mech.

Prowl didn't say anything as he cradled her cheek, staring deeply into her optics. They were so hazed, as if drugged. He was caught off guard as the femme suddenly regained some strength, and half-screamed half-growled at him and dug her digits into his cheek. He flinched, doorwings jerking, as he pried them from his face plates.

Jazz watched, stupefied, as Prowl pulled the now sobbing femme to his chassis, rocking on his pedes and shushing her

* * *

"I came as soon as I could." Station said as he burst through the hospital's swinging doors to the waiting room for rooms 362-387. He paused, looking in at the glass to the closest room. Inside, a trembling femme spoke with a doctor, a rather one sided conversation as her lips moved very little. "Is that her?"

Jazz nodded, casting a worried look towards Prowl, who remained seated and silent in a hard, cast-iron bench. "Yep."

Station followed Jazz's visored optics towards the Praxian, and shifted uncomfortably. "Is he-"

Jazz shrugged and shook his helm in an unreadable manner. "Can we jus' have a breem?"

"Sure." Station said quickly, taking a retreating step back towards the swinging doors. "Just to let you know, I'm having my mechs already start a search of the house."

Jazz waited for the outburst from Prowl, and vented when it never came. Station looked just as put off as he did, and awkwardly left, unable to find anything to say.

The Polyhexian vented heavily as he sat down next to Prowl. "Hey, you doin' all righ'?"

Prowl swallowed once, a sharp vent leaving him. "All this time. Two vorns, and I-I never-" his intakes hitched, and he placed a hand over his optics.

"It's okay." Jazz soothed, wrapping his servos around the mech. The sound of the hospital room door sliding open tore them apart once again as a tall, stoic doctor left the room.

"Are you Iris's friends?" he asked, already knowing the answer but asking for the sake of decorum.

Jazz nodded and rose, nudging Prowl to do the same but getting no motion out of him. "Yeah. Is she all righ'?"

"She's fine, physically." the doctor stated. "Mentally...her captor, she referred to him as Staple, seems to have been very good at psychological torture. He was able to convince Iris that she had been in his care for over ten vorns. She's very confused right now, as well as scared."

Prowl cleared his throat, gaining a bit of attention. "Was she drugged at all?"

The doctor shook his helm. "Confused, a bit malnourished, but her energon is coming up clean. What she needs now is support and rest."

"Alrigh'." Jazz nodded. "We'll be sure ta do tha'. Can we...take 'er home?"

"Soon." the doctor promised. "Just a few more tests, just to be safe, but I don't think anything will come up." he finished just as his pager beeped.

"Thanks." Jazz called after him as the doctor retreated past those swinging double doors, and disappeared. He turned back to Prowl, who sat as still as a rock, focusing only on the femme on the other side of the glass.

He sighed.

* * *

"A-are you sure it's safe?" the large-opticed femme asked, seeming to curl in on herself after the door to the apartment had been opened to her.

Prowl nodded, stepping inside himself and turning on the light. The femme looked about without a single word, but nervousness clearly written on her face. She stood in the middle of the living room, looking at the few sparse pieces of artwork Prowl had decorated the living room with.

* * *

_"It's open." a rather distracted, but distinctly female voice, called through the door. She heard it open, and a few pede-steps come forward and stop._

_"Miss Iris?" a mech's voice came from directly behind her, but she never turned to look._

_"No formalities." Iris smirked, still entirely focused on the painting she was touching up._

_"I came about the case." the mech stated, his voice showing that he was taller than she was. The sound of his pede-steps showed that he was light himself, but something weighed him down. Doorwings, perhaps? The mech was Praxian._

_"Yes, the paintings." Iris added a bit of auburn to a corner, and then burnt amber. "Tell your museum that I'm sorry, but they're not originals."_

_"Are you quite certain?" the mech pressed. "I observed them myself, and they looked rather original to me."_

_Iris smirked to herself. How amateur. "Looks can be deceiving, PI."_

_"Actually, I am not a Private Investigator." the mech's voice was a bit distant now, observing a piece of art and making him turn away from her. "More of a...consulting detective. Now, about those paintings. How can you be so certain?"_

_Iris never turned. Keep her audience in suspense and make herself look more mysterious, and then she'd blow their mind. "Because, detective, there is a certain mineral in the orange used in paintings from that time. The time that the real artist lived, though, was long before that mineral was discovered. So, it couldn't have been original." she chuckled. "Believe me, the world would be a much better place with a few more originals instead of imitations."_

_She heard her audience of one swallow once. Mind blown? Yes. He cleared his throat. "I'm...not sure how I didn't see that myself. I mean," he straightened, as his voice came a bit higher. "I know I would have figured it out, eventually."_

_Iris chuckled again as she turned around to face her visitor. She stopped, observing him with great interest. "You're beautiful."_

_Flabbergasted, the black and white Praxian froze. "E-excuse me?" he floundered lamely._

_"Perfect symmetry." she pointed at each side of his frame. "I'm trained to look out for it."_

_The mech nodded, still a bit put off but understanding now. He stood a moment longer, unsure of exactly where to go in the conversation. Oh, mechs. Femmes had to do everything, didn't they? Just how did two mech families get on?_

_"I don't know your name." Iris started, hoping he would catch on. "It's only fair, as you know mine, detective."_

_"Oh." he started, as if jerked out of his thoughts. He held out a hand, a bit too fast as it looked as if to strike her. "Prowl."_

_She smiled as she pressed her hand lightly into his. She chuckled sheepishly as he looked at the splotch of yellow paint in the center of his palm._

_"I should be going." he said slowly. How disappointing, he was rather cute._

_She stood there as the mech turned to leave, and then turned around. She hid the smirk well, and tried to look a bit surprised when he came scurrying back._

_"Excuse me for being intrusive, I shouldn't linger..." Prowl stated. "But, tell me, how is it that you have the original 'Sunlight' when I saw it in a museum last groon?"_

_Now it was easy to look surprised. "And how would you know that?"_

_The Praxian took two strides towards the red, yellow, and orange depiction of an exquisite sunset. He motioned to a slight indentation in the upper right corner. "Here. During the time period this painting was created in, Pre-Olden, correct?" she nodded. "There was a brawl within the Prime Domicile, and this painting suffered a laser blast."_

_The femme sighed, her façade seen right through. "The museum owner wanted to file down the paint and fix the corner. It would destroy what the original artist wanted to depict. It was easy to shoot another paint board and pass it off as the original."_

_Prowl hummed. They were now standing at equal length on either side of the large painting. He rose up and bounced a few times on his pedes before falling back._

_"Would you like to play a game?" he asked, looking at her from the corner of his optics._

_She turned towards him, a smirk on his face. "Depends."_

_Prowl took a deep vent in, puffing out his chassis. He continued to bounce out if nervous habit, holding his hands behind his back. "You and I will go about this room, and I will tell you which pieces you have accumulated are real...and which are your own, brilliant interpretations."_

_She smiled, knowing just where this was heading. "And what would the stakes be?"_

_"Well, if I fail, I will leave you alone to your work." Prowl started. His optics sparkled as he continued. "If I succeed, you must accompany the likes of me for a nice...night in the town."_

_Iris cocked her helm to the side and smiled coyly. "You are interested in me and I have already said that you are beautiful. We wouldn't need to go out to 'a nice night in the town'. We can start here and now"_

_She was pleased at the mech's optic ridges rose. He held his servo out at an angle, a soft smile on his face. She, in turn, took the offered servo, and the game began._

* * *

"You don't have a lot of art." Iris observed, eyeing the Praxian.

"Not a lot that have caught my optic." Prowl replied. "Would you like to sit down, or maybe rest?"

"I am a bit tired." Iris admitted, helm hung low. While only mid-day, neither Jazz nor Prowl allowed themselves to dwell on whatever horrors Iris must have had to go through.

"You can have my room." Prowl said, gently taking the femme's thin servo to lead her toward it.

"Hey, Prowl." Jazz said from the kitchenette. "She can have mah room." The only other thing besides the floor was the sofa to sleep on. With those big, bulky panels on his back, it wasn't going to be comfortable.

Prowl shook his helm. Iris looked towards him, optics still impossibly large. "But, Prowlie, where will you sleep?"

"On the couch." Prowl motioned towards it. She looked about to argue. "Really, it's alright."

Iris hung her helm and nodded, allowing herself to be led away. Prowl returned a few moments later, and sunk onto his designated sleeping spot for...whenever it was when he slept.

"She okay?" Jazz asked, handing the mech a strong form of mid-grade.

Prowl nodded, thankfully accepting the cube and relishing a cool sip. It buzzed his systems only enough to relax the tenseness that refused to go away. He vented, setting the cube down after only a few sips.

"How you doin'?" Jazz asked, eyeing him worriedly.

"Fi-" Prowl started. He shook his helm. "As well as I can. How could I-, I missed so much. I must have missed, something."

Jazz clapped a hand on the Praxian's knee. "It ain't yer fault, 'kay? Ah know ya really aren't the kind ta talk 'bout much, but if ya need to talk, Ah'm 'ere."

"Thank you." Prowl said, surprising in the Polyhexian, but after a hesitant moment, the Praxian shook his helm.

"'Kay." Jazz said. "Ah'm no shrink or rehab bot or anythin', but Ah know that this's a triggery thing for ya, so jus'...take it easy."

Prowl managed to both nod and shake his helm at the same side. "Triggery or not, I am too preoccupied to worry about my own wellbeing."

"Ya takin' on this case?" Jazz asked, perking up a bit. A case is just what Prowl needed to get his priorities straight. His spark sank again, full of confusion, as Prowl shook his helm. "Why not?"

"Jazz, I've hurt her." Prowl said, his optics watery but not as if about to cry. "'M' wanted to hurt me by getting at her. That's the way it's always been. Others suffer because of this bot's _obsession _with me, he wants me unharmed but hurting."

"'E hurts others ta hurt you." Jazz paraphrased accurately.

Prowl nodded. "I can't, I can't leave her- abandon her now for the case. She needs me here, now. It's up to you, Jazz."

"Meh?" Jazz's optics widened as his index digit collided with his chassis.

"Yes, Jazz. You know my methods, enforce them. Really _think_." Prowl urged.

Jazz vented out as he nodded. "Okay."

"Good." Prowl rose to his pedes, tapping his sides and doing his nervous bounce. "Well, you must get on if you are to solve this mystery, detective." he added on.

Jazz smirked at Prowl's little ways to be nice. His spark ached for the mech, whose own spark must have been throbbing. "All righty, then."

Prowl stood straight and tall as Jazz left, sinking back onto the sofa only after the door had closed, and clasped his hands over his face.

* * *

_It had been hard, she had put up a good fight, but it had been so worth it in the end. The only femme in the world that he was compatible with completely, was now his. Together, a young couple. No spark bond, and they still lived in separate houses on opposite sides of Praxus, but on most nights one house remained empty._

_Prowl hummed softly as he felt the warm frame of Iris tickle his bare protoform. "Iris, please. I must go over this."_

_She peeped at the data-pad he held, a diagram of a crime scene visible. A nice home, a family once lived there in peace, now stained with a pool of energon. She shuddered a bit, curling into him more._

_"How gruesome." she shuddered. "Really, we interface and the first thing you want to do afterwards is go over a case."_

_A small smirk played with the corners of the Praxian's mouth as he nodded. A feathery slap was well placed on his shoulder, and with a heavy sigh he set the pads aside. She smiled seductively as he turned his attention back to her._

_"Do I really have all of your attention?" Iris asked, teasing his bare chassis a bit. She moved up, leaning into him and tapping her hand on his helm while pressing into a soft kiss. "Or are you still preoccupied?"_

_Prowl shook his helm, his hands straddling her sides. "I am-" his voice became muffled a second before breaking the second kiss. "Completely occupied now."_

_Iris smiled softly, her optics dancing as Prowl rolled her off and onto her side. Deciding to play the tease, she rolled over more and onto her stomach._

_"Iris?" Prowl asked, confusion laced on his voice. "I thought you wanted-"_

_"How well do you know me?" Iris dared him softly, optics sparkling playfully in the dim light._

_"By spark." Prowl nuzzled into her neck. "Every bit of you is etched into me and my processor."_

_"Prove it." she whispered back. Prowl smiled, always up for a challenge. He rolled over until he has half laying on her, his foot tapping hers from time to time as he hovered._

_"We start with the helm." Prowl began, pressing his digits gently to the small crest and brushing downwards. "Smooth and completely mark free, except for here, were a nasty fall as a sparkling dared to try and mar the most perfect face in the world." the digits brushed into a small dent on her cheek, only noticeable to him._

_She turned her helm from the pillow, facing the mech who had fallen silent. "Is that all?"_

_"Just making sure you were paying attention." Prowl smiled gently. His hands travelled down her neck and down her back, going at angles towards her servos. "She is completely unmarked on her back, but what's this?" he asked in mock surprise as he lifted a wrist to his lip. "A mark-no-two marks." he kissed the other wrist, a single black ring wrapped around her wrists of her protoform. "My femme has been handcuffed, and the cuffs leaving their mark on her."_

_"Prowlie..." Iris groaned, rolling her optics at the hopelessly unromantic mech._

_"No handcuffs?" Prowl asked, looking completely relaxed and calm next to her. "Then, these must be birthmarks, marking my femme as unique and one-of-a-kind."_

_She pressed her lips to his cheek, smirking to herself at the heat that flowed from him. She eyed him warily as he shifted, moving her from her comfortable position._

_"If we continue lower-" Prowl started mischievously._

_Iris sighed as she pushed his slowly sliding hands off of her. She shook her helm. "Not gonna happen."_

_Prowl looked completely baffled as she pulled the sheet from on top of them, leaving Prowl with the comforter, and wrapped it about her shoulders._

_"Did I do something wrong?" he asked as she left the berth towards one of her latest paintings in near complete restoration._

_"No." Iris mused, donning a paintbrush and solvent. "I have to finish this."_

_"So I am not allowed to do my work after interface, but you are allowed to do yours?" Prowl questioned, amused._

_Iris hummed in the positive, making careful stokes of blue and silver. She let the sheet slip from her shoulders, gathering at her bent elbows and framing her flawless back, and relished the way she made Prowl's cooling fans click on. He must be the only mech able to speak normally during a moment of lust and longing, not even a hint of strain in his vocal box._

_"Have you ever considered painting a piece of your own?" Prowl asked, watching her from the berth._

_The protoformed femme hummed a bit in consideration as a smudge of turquoise joined a swirled sky. She shook her helm. "I have nothing to give to the artist's world."_

_"So you've said." Prowl stated. "But yet your guest room is locked." He smiled as her digits paused for only a klik before continuing calmly._

_"So?" Iris asked, shifting on the stool into a more comfortable position. "Maybe I just want to keep nosey Praxians out."_

_"Or, you do not wish for said Praxian to see..." Prowl hummed in thought. "An Iris original? You had paint on your hand when you let me in earlier. As per norm, but they were in shades of green and yellow. I only saw blues and whites set out."_

_The femme vented in a way that showed Prowl that he had hit the nail right on the head. His perked up doorwings lowered a bit as she turned._

_"Maybe." she relented. "But you can't see it. Not yet." Her dark blue optics pierced his very spark. Only she could get him in every way imaginable._

_"Even to give my expert opinion?" Prowl questioned with mischief pulling at the ends of his mouth._

_Iris chuckled. "Especially that." she turned back to her work, a click of a pad behind her telling that Prowl had returned back to his own._

* * *

"So, Prowl's really not coming?" Digger asked for the hundredth time. _77th._Jazz corrected himself. _Slagit, now Ah'm thinkin' like Prowl._

The Polyhexian shook his helm, both to answer and to shake the thoughts from his processor. "Nope, can't blame 'im, though."

"I can't either." Station agreed. "Just...odd that he'd want to sit this one out. His entire career led up to this point, and he just says no."

"'E wants ta take care o' Iris." Jazz stated, stepping out of the way as an Enforcer pushed by him. Prowl was right about them, too. They knew how to destroy a crime scene. "He put meh on the case, though."

Digger snickered a bit, stopping after a deathly glare from the visored mech. He lifted his hands in defeat. "Okay, go look about, then."

Jazz scowled as they strolled into the room where Iris had been found. Nothing had been touched, much, but a table had been pushed over and it looked like an Enforcer had touched a wet painting. The green one with red splotched hands.

Jazz's optic ridge furrowed as he took a deep vent. While he knew no one really expected him to solve the entire case, he couldn't help but feel pressured. Everything Prowl had ever worked on really had led to this point, and instead of taking it in stride, he had shoved it onto Jazz.

"Hang on..." Jazz started slowly, eyeing a container of yellow powder. He lifted it, shaking it in the sunlight.

"What is it?" Station asked, turning from a painting to look at the Polyhexian. "You find something?"

Jazz hesitated. "Kinda jus' a hunch, but Prowl gave me some pads on art a groon or so ago. This 'ere shade, it's pretty rare. It's...eh." he hummed as he racked his processor. All those pads on how paint was made, different time periods in which art was prominent, and symbolism hidden in sculptures and paintings all rose to the surface. "Jonquil."

"Looks to me like yellow." Digger stated with a raised optic ridge.

"It is." Jazz said hurriedly. "But it comes from a kinda ground up crystal that don' grow real easy, an' especially not in Iacon. It would have ta be special ordered, and real expensive."

"What are you getting at?" Station pressed, taking the glass container of yellow powder.

"Ah'm sayin' tha' there can't be too many art shops tha' sell this 'ere paint. It should be easy ta track it down. Maybe they keep a tab o' this stuff." Jazz stated, shifting a bit. "Like Ah said, jus' a hunch."

Station and Digger exchanged glances. The mini-bot smirked. "Just like having Prowl on the team again."

Jazz rolled his optics and vented as the mini-bot went to take up the lead. Station clapped him on the back. "Good job."

* * *

Prowl started from a half-sleep as a scream pierced his audios. Disoriented, he rushed to the closed window and went to throw it open. Instead, a second scream shot through the hall, followed by a sob. He hurried down it and opened his door.

Iris sat in the middle of the berth, curled in on herself and trembling. Prowl went to touch her, wrap his servos around her and pull her tight, but she flinched away from him.

"He changed the rules." she sobbed in a near incoherent manner. "Staple, he made me learn the rules and then-then he changed them!"

Prowl stood still with widened optics, unsure of what to do. The femme continued to shake and her intakes were terribly hitched. "I-I'll get you something to drink." he stammered, hurrying to turn and leave.

"Prowlie." a choked voice turned him back around. Iris took a swallowed vented, breathing deep to try and collect herself. Jerkily, she patted the berth. "Please. Sit-sit with me. I want to hear your voice." the stoic, confused Praxian never moved, but continued to watch her. "It-it must have been hard on you, finding me gone. How long? T-two vorns?"

"One vorn, seven groons, twenty-eight orns." Prowl vented softly.

Iris lifted her bright blue optics to stare at the mech. "You kept track of the orns?"

Prowl swallowed, nodding once. Iris rubbed her face tiredly, venting slowly.

"Tell me, you moved back to Iacon. There must be a-a story behind that." Iris stated, her intakes hitching once again as she pat the berth.

The sound of a door opening and closing reached their audios. Prowl pointed at the hall. "I...should probably see if he found anything."

Without giving the femme a chance to answer, Prowl turned and disappeared into the hall, the door sliding closed once again. Jazz was in the kitchen, getting a cube of energon. He glanced up as the Praxian entered.

"Ya wan' somethin'?" he asked, motioning towards the cooler with his helm.

Prowl shook his helm. "Did you find anything? About Iris?"

Jazz shook his helm. "Nothin' worth accountin' for. Digger's trackin' down some paint, but until then, nothin'."

Prowl nodded, chewing his bottom lip as if trying to deduce the paint himself. Jazz took a sip of his cube.

"How's Iris doin'?" Jazz asked as he sat down on the couch.

Prowl cocked an optic ridge, as if the answer was obvious. "Just fine." he stated sarcastically.

_Don' get mad at him. _Jazz growled inside. _He's jus' worried._

Prowl was still standing in the kitchen, looking lost as in what to do. Jazz wanted to help him, say something to comfort him, but was detoured by his comm.

Prowl looked out the window from where he stood, the streetlights just turning on as the sun set. It was right around this time, one vorn, seven groons, and twenty-eight orns ago.

* * *

_The simple comm. message in his helm played over and over again as he pulled up in front of the familiar house and transformed._

_'It's ready, Prowlie. Come on over for the grand unvailing.'_

_He straightened himself up, brushing off invisible dust from his servos and fixing his slippery grip on a bottle of vintage Visco. Its gold cap wrapping stood out in his white hand, but nothing shone brighter than he did in that darkening street. Maybe he overdid it a bit on the polish._

_"Iris." Prowl called out as he keyed in her house code. "Sorry I'm late, got a bit hung up on the case. I'm here now, tho-"_

_Everything froze, time, his vents, his frame. His grip on the bottle loosed just enough to have the expensive drink slide out, and the dark purple bottle crash to the floor. It's dark red color seeped about, and flowed into the pool of blue energon seeping into the throw rug._

_He looked up onto the mantle, numb. An onlined data-pad screamed a short message at him in large type print._

_'I know you were supposed to see a new piece of art; allow me to show you one of my own works instead. - M'_

* * *

Prowl started as a hand touched his shoulder.

"Did ya hear meh, Prowl?" Jazz asked, keeping his grip as the mech's optics met his visor.

"No, I'm sorry." Prowl apologized. Odd, for him, he made excuses, not apologies. "My mind was elsewhere."

"Ah said Ah gotta get goin'." Jazz repeated. "Tha' was Station. They found the mech tha' got the paint."

Prowl hummed and bobbed his helm. "Then you had best get going."

Jazz didn't move. "Are _you _okay?"

"I'm fine, Jazz." Prowl stated confidently, despite the dread and utter uselessness he felt. He couldn't help but feel that something was terribly, horribly wrong. Not just with him, but some kind of twisted, warped plot that contained both Jazz and Iris with him.

"Comm. if ya need anythin'." Jazz stated from the door. When had he left his side?

No matter, it wasn't that important. Prowl had a mission of his own. Entering the cooler for a moment, he pulled out the promised cube and returned to Iris.

The femme murmured her thanks as she took a sip. It seemed to settle her nerves, and she sipped it slowly. Prowl took the quiet moment to take her in, like he had nearly two vorns ago.

The same, thin, delicate armor covered her frame. She was much thinner in protoform then she had been when she had been Prowl's, but rest and fuel would fix that soon enough. She was the same color as he remembered, not even a paler shade due to the trauma she must had gone through. A soft, melancholic smile pulled at the edges of her lips as she caught the mech's optics.

"What are you thinking?" she asked softly, setting aside the nearly empty cube beside her.

"You must have been through a lot." Prowl stated, his voice just as low. "What happened?"

"I remember asking you first." Iris replied as she traced the brim of her cube with a thin digit. "I promise, I'll tell you about...my time if you tell me yours."

Prowl took a seat on the edge of the berth, letting his frame slowly go lax as he vented out. "Not much to tell. I couldn't stand Praxus without you there, and came back to Iacon. Couldn't go back home after leaving the way I did, and started consulting for the Iacon Enforcers." he took a shaky vent in. "There have been very few moments in which you haven't crossed my mind."

Iris shifted closer to him, seeking comfort. His larger hand covered her own as she took a shaky vent. "Staple, he-he always changed the rules. He'd tell me one thing, and switch it to another." she let out a gasped chuckle. "He had me convinced it was for so much longer than two vorns. Every night, he'd-he'd but a white crystal on my pillow."

"Why?" Prowl asked, closing his hand around hers. Their optics met a second time, broken only when she shook her helm.

"I don't know. A-A warning?" she guessed.

They sat in awkward silence for a klik. Prowl vented harshly, rising to his pedes quickly, releasing the femme's hand. "Why don't you spend some time in the living room? Maybe...watch something?"

"Prowl telling me to watch something on the holo-vid?" Iris managed a smirk and feigned shock.

"It wouldn't hurt your processor...much." Prowl added after a moment's thought. "You need something to take you mind off everything, though."

"It's late, though." Iris weakly argued. "Aren't you supposed to sleep on the sofa, or are you still doing that not sleeping thing?"

Prowl's face reddened a shade and he lowered his helm. "I suppose I haven't changed much in our time apart."

Iris rose on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek. "On the contrary, you're a completely different mech."

She left for the living room with one more airy kiss. He stood there for a klik, mulling it through his processor, before following. He smirked slightly at her bored look, already flipping through the channels and finding nothing.

"There are books on the shelf, if you'd like." Prowl stated from his spot. "And, if you find nothing there, there might be something to preoccupy yourself with in my lab."

Iris perked up slightly. "You have a lab? In this tiny thing?"

"Of sorts." the Praxian returned. He bounced on his pedes. "I-I need to go out, just for a breem."

The femme's optics widened in horror. Alone again? "Why?" she choked out.

"The cooler's running low. Jazz usually takes care of the shopping, but in this case..." his voice trailed off as he turned towards the cooler, 'running low' in terms of 'completely bare'.

Iris forced a smirk onto her face. "You don't have any energon, do you?"

Prowl shook his helm, lowering it in admittance. "I promise, I'll go quick. Jazz'll get upset, though, if he comes back and finds it empty. If anything happens, or if you feel uncomfortable at all-"

"I'll call." Iris promised, not even trying to hide her nervousness. The Praxian looked hesitant, and started to go. "Wait, Prowl...I-I wanted to talk to you."

"Can it wa-" Prowl started, only to bite his lip and reprimand himself. "I mean, about what?"

"Prowl, it's not safe here." Iris vented lowly. "I want to leave."

"But, you just came back." Prowl froze. "You just came back to _me_."

Iris shook her helm. "I want to go away. With _you_. It's not safe for you either. Prowl, I want you to stop this game. You don't know what you're undertaking. Think of what you're doing."

"I am, though." Prowl stated. "I do know what I'm doing. I'm staying with you, protecting you, while Jazz-"

"Prowl." Iris exclaimed, shocking the Praxian with the height of her voice. "You're doing it again, only this time worse. You're sending out another mech in _your _place. Did you even think about if he _wanted _to?"

"You don't know Jazz." Prowl argued. "He would have spoken up if he didn't want to."

The femme rapidly shook her helm. "Would he, though?" she clasped her hands over her face, a soft sob breaking through. "I can't- I can't go back into all this, Prowl." she removed her hands, face wet with tears. "Please, please. We have to go."

Prowl shuttered his optics, blocking everything out. He shook his helm, not knowing what to do. "Please, Iris. You don't know what you're asking."

"Prowl." Iris intakes hitched. "_You _don't know what you're doing."

Prowl waved his hand with short, jerked motioned, optics still shuttered. This was his life, this was the only thing that let him cope with the Primus-damned processor he had been cursed with. "Let me...let me, think about it."

Iris vented, wiping away a few of her tears. "Fine, but please, I can't do this anymore."

Prowl shook his helm, and made sure to lock the door as he headed to the shops.

* * *

"You can't be serious." a maroon colored mech said with wide optics. It had been a peaceful evening, he had been waiting for his younger brother's return from some odd date or another, when a pounding at the door revealed two Enforcer's, a police chief, and some visored detective.

"We have evidence that your brother, Synthesis?" the maroon mech nodded, confirming Station's question. "Has recently bought some paint. Paint found at one of our crime scenes."

The mech, Reagent, pinched his olfactory sensors. "I have no idea how-I mean, I don't even think my brother paints."

"Your brother has a past criminal record. He had some illegal weapons?" Digger pressed.

"Yeah, but that was vorns ago." Reagent argued. "He's been trying to change. Hey, I work with children. I tutor them, here in this house. If I didn't think he was safe, I wouldn't let him within a mile of this place."

Jazz vented a bit. This was getting them nowhere. A fellow Enforcer of his tapped him on the shoulder.

"Pardon the interruptions." the dark blue mech started. "But we were informed to let you know when the brother returned."

"Thanks, Chase." Jazz said as he rose from his chair and headed outside. Digger was left to question the elder brother.

"Hey, you Synthesis?" Jazz asked as a toxic green and neon blue mech neared.

The mech nodded warily. "Yeah...why?" he drawled.

"Ya bought some paint a few orns ago." Jazz stated. "Paints an' brushes. Why?"

"A friend asked me to get them for him since he was going to be out of town." Synthesis answered. He looked about nervously. "Please, am I in trouble, because I have been trying so hard since my first and _last _arrest that if I am-"

The mech's pleads were cut off by a short burst of gunshots, and the scrambling of a few mechs. Synthesis was grabbed and held back by one as Station led the others, including Jazz.

"Hang back, hang back." he ordered, motioning for them to clear the door. "On my order." He whipped a laser blaster from his subspace, and gave a nod. "Now."

The door was kicked open, and Station led Jazz and two other Enforcer's behind him, each pointing their blasters about in case Reagent, as that is only who it could be, showed himself. A groan reached their audios, and blue pedes were seen from the sitting room.

"Digger." Station knelt down beside the mini-bot. "How bad are you hurt."

"Hurts worse than it is." Digger gritted out, grinding his denta. "Mainly hit my armor."

Jazz vented in relief. Enforcer armor was thicker and stronger for a reason. Not entirely bullet-proof, but it had been known to stop weaker blasts from time to time.

Station pat the mini-bots shoulder. "We'll get a medic to you, hold tight."

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere." the mini-bot said tightly, a smirk on his face despite his pained optics and leaking center. "Primus." he vented. "He knew just where to shoot. D-din't want to-" he coughed once. "Didn't want to kill me, just stop me."

"Sirs, he's escaped. " the blue Enforcer, Chase, reported sullenly after returning. "He disappeared over the fence. We tried to block him on all sides, but he still managed to evade us."

Jazz growled in irritation. After the Enforcer took a step back, Jazz hurriedly lifted a hand. "It's-it's okay. We'll get 'im next time."

Digger choked again, grimacing at the action. It hurt to vent, and the energon leaked from him too fast for his taste.

"Easy." Station said gently, taking a standard first aid kit from his subspace. "Medics will be here in just a klik." he motioned at Jazz. "Give me an assist."

Jazz knelt down, taking the padding handed to him and pressing it over the wound. The warm energon instantly began to seep into it, slowly spreading out. "Good thin' it didn' go through all the way, hmm?"

Digger chuckled breathily, grimacing as it strained off into a fit of coughing. "Yeah, guess I'm lucky."

Station glanced up, motioning over a red bot with a white heartbeat line on his servos over. "Meds here. They'll get you patched up in no time."

"And right back to work?" Digger asked with a cocked optic ridge.

Station nodded. "Yep. Right back on the force."

Digger chuckled as Jazz stepped aside, making room for the incoming medics. A rolling gurney was soon brought in, and the blue mini-bot evacuated. Chase returned a moment later.

"What do you suggest we do with the other brother?" he asked.

"Take him down to HQ, get him in the interrogation room." Station ordered. "Jazz, call down Prowl and Iris. Have them go to the observation room. We need her statement on this."

"'Kay." Jazz replied, pressing a finger to his comms.

* * *

"I'm telling you, I don't know." the toxic green and neon mech moaned, rubbing his temples as he propped his elbows on the table. "I didn't even know my brother owned a gun."

"Like Pit you did." the interrogator, a blood red mech, stated. "Your brother had a gun case in the back room. Chuck full of guns."

"Were they legal, at least?" Synthesis asked hopefully, his optics pleaded.

The interrogator nodded. "Yes, but-"

Iris shook her helm, turning to look at Station. "I-I'm sorry. If I've seen him, I don't remember."

"Nothing looks familiar about him?" Station asked, looking over the mech himself through the one-way window. "Voice, optics, colors, anything?"

Iris shook her helm again, hand behind her as she grabbed Prowl's. He gave her a reassuring squeeze.

"What about this mech?" Station asked, onlining a data pad and pulling up a picture of the maroon Reagent. "Does he look familiar at all?"

Iris looked hard at the picture, even taking it in her hands to observe it better. She handed it back, shaking her helm. "I-I'm sorry. I want to help, I really do. He doesn't remind me of anything, though."

Station vented. "It's all right. Thanks for coming. I have to go file this all in, and check on Digger's progress."

The mech pushed by Prowl with a nod of his helm before leaving. Prowl lay a hand on the femme's shoulder, tugging slightly.

"It's late." he stated. "We should get going."

"Alright." Iris agreed, nodding with her helm low.

"See ya." Jazz vented as the door closed behind Prowl. He scrubbed at his face tiredly. _Jus' how does Prowl do this? Ah've only done it two orns an' Ah'm beat._

He soon left the observation room himself. He'd start heading home, maybe grab a stiff drink first. Primus, could he use one.

* * *

Prowl wrapped his servos around the femme as she sobbed in horror, her voice static-laden and torn from her previous screams.

His optics fixated on a single, thin crystal shimmering in the moons' light. It's near pure white glimmered onto the cream colored pillow, and it's hexigonal cut sides kept it from rolling about and firmly in the center.

"All right." Prowl vented.

Iris lifted a teary face and hummed in confusion.

"I agree. I-I'll go." Prowl relented.

A gasp came from her vocalizer as her lithe, deep purple servos wrapped around him. "Thank you." she choked out in a near whisper. "Thank you, Prowlie."

"Give me a breem to pack." Prowl asked.

The frightened femme nodded. "Please, just hurry."

Leaving her side, he went to his office's closet and pulled out his trusty traveling case. He marched into the living room and tossed it onto the sofa, open. All while he was tossing in random data-pads and items, he sent out a message to a certain bot via HUD.

* * *

'_What do you mean 'you're leaving?' _Jazz sent back, setting his drink back on the bar counter. He was only going to have one, but after this, another may be in order.

'_Exactly that. It is no longer safe for Iris or me, and I will no longer endanger others in my play. I suggest that you drop the case before you, too, are targeted.' _the new message read.

_'Since when have you cared about putting yourself in danger?' _Jazz returned, sliding a few chips towards the bartender and leaving his unfinished drink on the counter.

_'There is no persuading me, Jazz._' Prowl returned in his messaging, tossing a book on crystal structure into his travel bag.

_'I'm not trying to persuade you, just talk some sense into you.' _Prowl read.

"Are you almost ready?" Iris asked from behind.

"Nearly." Prowl promised. He glanced her over, tense frame and tear streaked, sticky face. "I suggest you wash before we leave, as I have not yet fully mapped out our escape and there will be little time for cleanings."

Iris gave a hurried nod and scurried off to wash. The sound of her metal armor dropping, and the liquid running soon reached his audios.

_'There is no talking me out of it_.' Prowl added another data-pad. There were going to be a lot of public transportations in his future, and the more he had to read the more he had to keep his processor occupied, the better. Already, with the lack of stimuli, he could feel himself going insane. '_My mind is made.'_

_'Then unmake it.' _Jazz sent back. _'Prowl, this doesn't feel right. Please, think it over.'_

_'I have.' _Prowl sent back simply, slamming the case shut before he _did _change his mind. He glanced about, racking his processor to make sure he had everything. They had passports and public transportation passes, and he had enough credits stored away to support them for a long while.

"I'm ready." Iris called in as she hopped into her pede armor. She tossed the back and arm plating onto Prowl's chair as she attached the other pede covering on.

"Good. I have everything planned now." Prowl stated, grabbing up the bag and setting it by the door. He glanced at the cooler, newly stocked. He should probably grab a few cubes now and store them away for later. "I know that my brothers will put us up for a while, and then we can move on to Epsilon. I know a bot there, not entirely trustworthy, but I have enough dirt on him to keep him quiet. He can-"

He froze as she attached her back armour, stretching about to apply the difficult piece. The cube in his hands slipped to the floor, shattering and creating a thick puddle on the ground.

The femme jumped, nearly jarring the armor from her protofrom. "Prowl? What's wrong?"

"Where are your handcuffs?" Prowl vented, his face drawn and taunt and his optics liquefying.

Iris tilted her helm, confusion clear in her optics. "My handcuffs? Prowlie, you're not making any sense."

Faster than he thought possible, he cleared the distance between them and grabbed her servos, wrenching them hard as he pulled them to his face and ignored the pained outburst that came from her. He released her, his hands curling around his face as she fell to the ground.

"Your birthmarks." he choked out in a barely audible whisper.

"My-" the femme stopped, slinking in behind him and straddling his hips. He was easy to turn around and wrap in a warm embrace. "Prowl, listen to me. You get like this, we both know you do."

"No." Prowl murmured as he numbly shook his helm.

"Shh." she pulled him in tighter. "You get so wrapped up into your own world, you see details that were never there. Prowlie, calm down and listen."

"No." Prowl shook his helm again, shoving her away. He staggered back once, unaware of the sound of the front door opening. He grabbed his helm again, a terrible, snapping pain cracking and radiating. "Your birthmarks!" he screamed.

"Prowlie." Iris choked, tears falling down her face once more. "You're scaring-"

"Where are they?" he shouted at audio-splitting decibels. He groaned, the pain growing more. He felt a soft, warm hand tugging on his face, turning his blurred optics to look at her.

"We need to go." she said firmly, her intakes hitching.

He shoved her away, causing her to trip over the small table and fall back with a grunt. The rest of her armor clattered out of his seat as he shoved it in a blinded rage, nearly clipping her pedes with the red padding.

"Get out!" he shouted, optics shuttered tight to block her out of his sight. "Get out of here, now!"

"Prowlie." Iris sobbed, gathering up her armor. "Please, please come with me."

"Get out of _my _home you Pylon!" he gritted his denta as his own voice tore into his processor.

Jazz stood stupefied where he stood. The door had long since closed behind him, Prowl's bag at his feet. He never moved to stop the femme as she stormed towards him, only sidestepping to avoid her trampling pedes.

She stopped just before leaving, anger and defiance clear in her face. "You'll regret this! You'll regret not coming with me! I'm not coming back this time! You hear me? I'm not coming back!"

"Get. Out." Prowl growled, voice slightly static from its misuse.

He groaned softly as the door closed again, and embraced the darkness as his pedes gave out from under him.

* * *

He blinked once... twice... thrice, clearing his helm of the initial fog. His back was pressed up against something soft, but much too close, giving him a terrible cramp in his doorwings.

He hadn't meant to groan, he wasn't even aware of the noise until it left his vocalizer, but Jazz had started from his seat and gone to his side. "You wakin' up?"

"I'm up." Prowl muttered as he tried to suppress rising feelings and near memories. He brought a hand up to his chevron, rubbing at its base. "Primus."

"Ya-"

"No, I don't want to talk about it." Prowl snapped from the sofa. Speaking of which..."Why am I here?"

"Well, Ah sure as Pit wasn' gonna drag ya all the way to yer room." Jazz snorted as he picked up a half-empty cube from the table. An onlined data-pad lay next to it, an article on crystal germination visible.

Prowl didn't shutter his optics as he listened to Jazz move about, content to stare at a crack on the ceiling. He vented heavily, blinking away the sting in his optics.

"What have I accomplished?" he asked aloud, hearing the joints and gears in Jazz's neck move to face him. He continued to stare at that crack, why hadn't he noticed it before? It was quite large, and spider-webbed across his roof.

"Ya found out a bit more 'bout Iris." Jazz tried helpfully, his own spark aching for Prowl.

The Praxian snorted. "Have I? At least when I walked in on the pool of her energon, I had it solidified in my helm that she was dead. Now, though, I have more questions than answers, and a Primus-dammed sliver of hope that she could still be alive."

"Is tha' such a bad thing?" Jazz cocked an optic ridge. He grabbed the full cube of high grade he had set out and held it out to the other, setting it back down after being rejected.

"It causes doubt, second-guessing." Prowl vented, letting his hand slide from his chevron and over his optics. "I will never be at ease, I will always wonder if she's out there, disguised. If I passed her in the street, or if she's locked up somewhere in that _psychopath's _clutches."

"Prowl-"

"Unless-unless I _see _her frame myself, gray or colored, I won't know." the Praxian finished in a whisper, shutting his mouth as a bit of static threatened to erupt.

"Ya don' hav'ta worry." Jazz said firmly. "Ah'll help ya."

"I thought that was a given." the depressed mech murmured, causing Jazz to smirk despite himself.

"Yeah, a given." Jazz agreed. "So...ya wanna go to yer room now or you gonna keep hoggin' the sofa?"

"Are you not in my chair?" Prowl reprimanded, removing his hand from his optics to look at the mech.

Jazz reddened and shifted uncomfortably. "Touché. But, really mech, ya can't be comfortable jus' layin' there."

"Leave me alone, Jazz." Prowl murmured, rolling onto his side and burying his face into the couch and letting his doorwings hang with gravity.

Jazz vented. "Fine, Ah'll give ya some space, fer now. 'Sides, Ah gotta go shoppin'."

"I already did the shopping." Prowl muffled out, unmoving.

"Yeah, Ah saw." Jazz smirked as he rose from his-er-_Prowl's _chair. "But all ya got is low grade."

He smirked a bit at the muffled curses thrown his way as he closed the front door behind him, letting his face fall. Taking a steady vent, he heightened his senses, and left the apartments.

* * *

Author's Note- Shout out to **Nikie2010 **for betaing this! Thank you!

Also, there will be an intermission again thanks to **NineCrow** for reminding me to exploit Prowl's condition. Then it'll dive right back into the mysteries, I swear.

Coming up soon - 'M' makes another call, pawns come into play, and an oyster!

Also...thank you to my 2 reviewers last time! That little bit helped me write the...mext 5 chapters! One more thing, 'M' sounds like Blackwood in the Sherlock Holmes movie (you should look it up on Youtube real quick if you don't know it). But he does take the place of Moriarty. (No, M is not for Moriarty)

Personally, I hate the nickname 'Prowlie', but his more prominent nickname of 'Prowler' should come into play much later, if all goes well. 

Thanks you all, Live long and prosper! 


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